


On Ice, I'm Home

by BreeTaylor



Series: On Ice, I'm Home [1]
Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Coach!Ryan, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Skater!Ray, alternate universe - figure skating, figure skating, figure skating AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-21
Updated: 2016-04-25
Packaged: 2018-05-08 02:42:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 35,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5480249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BreeTaylor/pseuds/BreeTaylor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This was Ray's last chance to qualify for the US Olympic Team. In four years he wouldn't have a chance against a new set of bright-eyed youngsters. Which is why Burnie brought in Ryan Haywood, Olympic Gold Medalist and infamous Quitter. To say they didn't get along was to put things lightly, but Ryan was his last hope.<br/><i>“At least I didn’t quit when things got a little tough, Mr. High-and-Mighty. You can stand there and judge me all you want, but at least I’m doing it!”</i><br/><i>“Don’t assume you know anything about what happened on that circuit.” Ryan said, his voice deep and serious. “You need to learn to take criticism, because you sure as hell need it."</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I Don't Take Advice From Quitters

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so, Figure Skating. I really, really love figure skating. And I'm really, really excited for this AU. My goal is to upload a chapter a week, but if school gets super hectic that might change slightly. Nonetheless, let me know what you think!

“I’m bringing in a new coach for you. If anyone can get you to the Olympics, it’s this guy.” Burnie said, not even glancing up from the papers on his desk when Ray walked in. He had been Ray’s first coach, but when his grandfather died the rink had been passed down to him, and managing it took all of his time.

“What happened to Geoff?”

“He retired from coaching last week. Said something about you being a lost cause?” Burnie asked, giving him a look over the paperwork in his hands. Ray smiled. Geoff had been fun, but overall useless. He did barely anything to further his career. “Anyway, go on down and start warming up. I want you two on the ice as soon as possible and he should be here soon.”

Ray ducked out of the office with a wave, heading quickly back downstairs so he could begin his stretching and muscle warmups. He’d just about finished when someone cleared their throat from behind him. He turned, and when his eyes landed on his new coach Ray couldn’t help but sigh. “Ryan Haywood. I should’ve expected.”

Like Geoff, Ryan had been on the circuit when Burnie had. They’d all been on the American Olympic team, and it was about the only way Burnie managed to blackmail them into coaching. Out of the trio, Ryan definitely had the most impressive career. He had endless gold’s, including two from the Olympics. Hell, he’d been well on his way to his third medal when he dropped out mid-season, disappearing from the skating world completely. Until now, that is.

“Are you going to spend all day staring at me, or are you going to get your skates on and get your ass out on the ice?” Ryan quipped. Ray scoffed at his attitude. Everyone knew that Ryan Haywood was nothing but a quitter. He didn’t know what Burnie was thinking, this was _not_ going to work out. Still, Ray would humor him. Just for today. He laced up his skates with practiced ease before stepping onto the freshly cleaned ice, just one of the perks he got as Burnie’s favorite.

He’d been skating since he was four. His parents had taken him to the rink in New York, and even though it was packed with people as always Ray remembered feeling like he was alone on the ice. He could barely stand, but according to his mother, they had never seen him as happy as he did in that moment. So they kept going, and Ray started to take lessons. Nearly fourteen years later, and the feeling of his blades carving through fresh ice was still one of his favorite things in the world. It was relaxing, but energizing.

Ryan just _had_ to ruin it. “What are you doing? Let’s go! Ten circuits.”

Ray sighed, but did as he was told. Circuits were easy, mindless, and incredibly—“Straight back! And extend your leg more as you stroke! This is the Olympics, not some juvenile show!”

Of course he was _that_ kind of coach. Ray couldn’t say he was surprised. He corrected his posture with minimal disgruntled mumbling, and thankfully Ryan said nothing else for the remainder of his laps. When Ray glided to a stop in front of him, he noted that Ryan wasn’t wearing skates, but rather regular boots. “When you skate with me, I expect you to skate like you’re being judged at all times, because you are. Now go, let’s see your short program routine.”

Ray sighed again, moving to the center of the ice. He assumed his starting position and waited for the music to begin.

He knew his routine inside and out. If Geoff was good at anything, it was repetition. He skated clean, hitting every jump, acing his spins, and nailing his choreography. When he resumed his place in front of Ryan, he was breathless, but confident.

That all fell as soon as Ryan opened his stupid mouth. “Your jumps are weak, you travel on your spins, and you’re always a quarter beat off.” He said bluntly, “At this point you should be getting a lot more power into your jumps. I should be able to _feel_ the intensity behind them. It’s no wonder you haven’t qualified yet.”

Ray’s jaw dropped, “Are you fucking _serious_?”

“Yeah, are you?”

“At least I didn’t quit when things got a little tough, Mr. High-and-Mighty. You can stand there and judge me all you want, but at least I’m _doing_ it!”

“Don’t assume you know anything about what happened on that circuit.” Ryan said, his voice deep and serious. “You need to learn to take criticism, because you sure as hell need it. Now, do it again. I want to see your spins perfect and centered.”

Ray wanted nothing more than to shove his skate right up Ryan’s as and tell him where he could _shove_ his spins. But that wouldn’t get him anywhere, and neither would running to Burnie like a sensitive child. He saw what was going on now, saw what Burnie thought he was doing. He thought Ryan would fix his ‘bad attitude’. He thought that Ray wouldn’t be able to handle Ryan, and that he would come running back begging for Geoff. Well he was going to prove Burnie wrong.

He did the routine again; and again; and again until he lost count and his feet knew the routine better than he did. Still, Ryan could find nothing but fault. Ray prided himself in having a thick skin, but even he could only handle so much before he began to doubt himself.

He _knew_ his routine was good. He knew _he_ was good, but according to Ryan he was nowhere near Olympic standards, and that hit hard. Hearing the words ‘lunch break’ had never provided as much joy as they did that day. Ryan gave him an hour for lunch, _thank god_ , and Ray was going to take full advantage of it. He didn’t bother unlacing his skates, choosing instead to simply slip on his hard guards and stomp to the concession, where he found Michael waiting with the biggest shit-eating grin he’d ever seen.

“How’s the new coach?”

“It’s Ryan fucking Haywood; figure skating’s most infamous quitter.” Ray sneered, “And he’s trying to tell _me_ I’m not good enough.”

“Okay, but he _was_ in the Olympics. Twice. So… he has to know what he’s talking about, doesn’t he?”

“Of course he does, but he still basically said that my entire short program is sloppy. _Sloppy!_ ”

“To be fair, you haven’t really cared that much lately, and Geoff let you slack off all the time…”

“Michael,” Ray sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, “As my best friend, you’re supposed to be on my side.”

“I am, I am.” He replied, placing a plate in front of Ray with his favorite burger and a pile of steaming fries, the aroma absolutely _heavenly_. “But I also know how badly you want this. You’ve been talking about getting a gold in the Olympics since you were like 6. So maybe Ryan’s a bit of a dick. From the sounds of it he might be the one who can get you there.”

Ray knew Michael was right. He always was, but damn did he hate to admit it. “He doesn’t have to be such an asshole about it, though.”

“It sounds like you two are a good pair in that sense.”

Ray stuck his tongue out before diving into the burger. He hummed in approval as the flavors danced on his tongue. “This is so good. As always.”

“I know. What would Burns do without my cooking?”

“Fuck Burnie, what would _I_ do without your cooking?” Ray joked, but before he could take another bite, Ryan came to ruin it. Again.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“Uh, having lunch?”

“Yeah, no. No greasy food until _after_ the Olympics. Or, at least until you’re disqualified.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Ray asked, sending a glare Michael’s way as the plate was taken from him. Michael shrugged, mouthing a silent ‘sorry’ before disappearing into the kitchen.

“You’re supposed to be in peak physical condition. That means eating healthy and working hard.” Ryan said, “How many hours are you at the rink?”

“I dunno. Like four on, 3 off Monday to Friday?” Ray shrugged, “Sometimes more, sometimes less.”

Ryan just started at him. Didn’t say a word until Michael came back with a salad. Ray couldn’t help but pout as he placed the dish in front of him. “Who the _fuck_ has been training you?” He asked, finally.

“Burnie, Geoff…?”

Ryan shook his head. “Unbelievable. You’ll be spending at _least_ six hours on ice, plus the three off ice six days a week. No more empty calories or greasy foods. At least seven hours of sleep each night.”

“Are you kidding me? When am I supposed to have a life?” Ray asked.

“What life?” Michael asked at the same time Ryan said, “You get Sunday’s off.”

“Dude you can’t be serious right now.”

Ryan sighed, “Look, kid. I need you to tell me this right now. Do you want to go to the Olympics, or not? Because you need to really _want_ it. You need to be willing to give up everything to get yourself there. It’s all or nothing.”

“Of course I want to! I’ve never wanted anything so badly in my life.”

“Well then prove it. Prove that you’re willing to do anything, to give up _anything_. Fix your fucking attitude and actually _act_ like you want this. Because I’m not going to train some ungrateful little shit.” Ryan said. “This is going to be hard work, and I need to know that you’re willing to do it.”

“I know, I am.” Ray said, and he meant it. He knew what it took, and he’d been willing to do it since he took his first steps on ice. He’d been willing since the first time he landed a jump; the first time a gold medal was draped around his neck. Of course he was willing.

Maybe Ryan was a bit of a hard ass, but maybe that’s what he needed. Maybe Michael was right and Ryan was exactly who he needed to coach him to success, even if he hated him for it. For the first time, his dream really felt like it was within his reach.


	2. 2015 Prudential U.S. Figure Skating Championships P.1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Two, as promised! Shoutout to myans on tumblr for being awesome and talking about this story with me at length. You can thank them for a series of side-stories that I've decided to write to go along with this. Because there's just too many things that just have to be written that don't fit in the plot.

To go from four hours of mild to heavy training, to six straight hours of Ryan pushing him to his limits was definitely a struggle. By the time Sunday rolled around and he was free, Ray couldn’t even motivate himself to get out of bed. If it weren’t for Michael—lovely, wonderful Michael—there was absolutely no way he would’ve stuck to Ryan’s crazy idea of a diet. That is, if he could have managed to get out of bed and answer the door for the pizza man.

Still, his program _had_ improved. His jumps were higher, his turns tighter. It almost made up for all the new bruises and sore muscles he’d acquired in the five days since Ryan had come on as his coach. Speaking of, Ryan was a fucking hard ass. It _still_ pissed him off, being bossed around and judged by someone who _quit mid-season_. And he had the audacity to call Ray lazy! But Ryan did know what he was talking about. His comments led to improvement, even if he did it all without dawning a pair of skates.

Now Michael and Burnie were a completely different story. They both got the biggest kick out of Ray’s pain. According to Burnie, it was payback for years of laziness and sass. Michael just loved watching him fall on his ass. You’d find the two of them shitting themselves laughing in the bleachers more often than not, until Ray or Ryan told them to get back to their fucking jobs.

Ray and Ryan definitely did not get along. Their relationship was civil at best, downright hostile at its worst. They seemed to push all of each other’s buttons, and it lead to a fair amount of awkwardness and frustration. And circuits for Ray. Nonetheless, they got shit done, which is more than Ray could say for Geoff. With Nationals right around the corner, he couldn’t afford anything but the best. Even if that best made him consider murder six days a week.

As the days ticked by, training kept getting longer. Ray kept waiting for himself to get used to it. For his muscles to stop aching or his feet to stop swelling on Sunday. Unfortunately, he wasn’t so lucky. It only got worse when he finally skated his free program and Ryan immediately decided to scrap the whole thing. “Are you fucking crazy?” Ray sputtered, “It’s perfectly fine!”

“It’s perfectly boring.” Ryan deadpanned. “Yeah, you’ve got the technique down, but that routine isn’t wowing anyone. The judges will be bored half way through.”

“Nationals is less than a month away, Ryan. And you want to design and perfect a routine in that time?”

Ryan nodded, “You’ve got the short program down. If we focus all our energy on this, it should be more than enough time. That is, if you’re willing to work hard.”

“I _am_ working hard,” Ray said, putting his hands on his hips and staring Ryan down, “I’ve told you a thousand times, Ryan; _I’m going to do this._ ”

“Good, then it’s settled. Geoff’s routine is out.” He stepped off the ice, moving to grab his coveted clipboard, “I’ve got a few ideas already, let’s see what we can put together.

* * *

He was right, the new routine was better. A lot better. That didn’t mean that Ray agreed with the idea to change it last minute, or that his muscles liked it. By the time he stumbled into their apartment at night, Michael was barely able to keep him awake long enough to eat dinner. He’d ended up having to get a new alarm clock when he chucked his first one at the wall on the fourth consecutive day of having to get up and run at 6am. He used to _like_ running, but Ryan had to go and ruin that too.

Regardless, he was in better shape than he’d ever been, and he’d never felt more confident on the ice than he did now. The nerves were still there, bubbling just under the surface and plaguing his dreams. The closer the competition got, the harder Ray tried to push the nervousness and anxiety down—and the harder it reared its ugly head right back at him.

“I can see when you hesitate,” Ryan had said at their last practice before Nationals. “Why do you do that? You know you can land a quad, why hesitate on a triple?”

Ray shrugged, “Didn’t feel quite right.”

Ryan had given him a weird look, but hadn’t pressed the subject. Ray was thankful. He’d taken some deep breaths and jumped right back into practice, assuring himself that everything would be _just fine_.

But now he was stuck sitting on a plane for hours with nothing to keep his mind from thinking and overthinking everything. Ryan was seated next to him, and it wasn’t long before Ray’s fidgeting got on his nerves. “Would you calm down? This isn’t your first time at Nationals. You know exactly what to expect.”

That wasn’t true. Ryan had never been more wrong, actually. Ray had _no idea_ what to expect. He had no idea what his competition would be like this year, how he’d feel when his turn finally rolled around. He didn’t know if his skates would feel heavy like they tended to when he was nervous. He had no idea who the judges were, or what kind of a chance he had. He didn’t say any of that, because he knew Ryan wouldn’t get it. Instead, he simply pointed out the facts. “You know I didn’t do well last time. I wasn’t even top ten.”

“Ray.” Ryan shifted in his seat to look at him better. Ray didn’t like being this close. He didn’t like having to look into Ryan’s eyes, having Ryan studying his expression so closely. At least at the rink he could move around, skate in circles if he had to. Here, with less than six inches between them, Ray felt vulnerable. “You’ve put everything into these routines. You’ve trained harder than you ever had. This routine will take you all the way if you just stop panicking and skate clean.”

“Right. Your almighty routine will save the day.” Ray sneered, unable to stop himself.

Ryan sighed and shifted away from him again, “You know that’s not what I meant. You’re ready for this. If you can get yourself out of your head long enough to show the judges that you should be fine.”

He just wished that made him feel better. Not that it wasn’t nice to know that Ryan actually _did_ have some confidence in him—that was a whole chunk of his worry gone—but he just… It was his last chance. Every time he turned away from friends and parties and girlfriends to go and skate instead lead up to this point, and if he didn’t place all of it would be for nothing.

Ray remembered what his mom said the night before: “You can’t let yourself worry too much, baby. Don’t think about where you are, or what is riding on these programs. Skate because you love it—you do love it don’t you?”

He did. He loved skating more than anything else. When he thought about what he wanted to do with his life if it was off the table… nothing. If he couldn’t skate, Ray didn’t know what he would do. It was his life, it made him who he was.

Ray felt most at home in a pair of skates, when the ice disappeared and it felt like he was flying.

* * *

The rink was just as busy as he remembered it when they arrived later that afternoon. It was different than last year, though. For one, the pressure was worse. This was a qualifying year, so the competition itself was going to be tougher than ever. That wasn’t what was eating at him, though. It wasn’t their skills that made his stomach turn, but the youth in their faces. In another four years he wouldn’t have a chance in hell of making the team. It was now or never.

The other substantial change was the amount of attention that was now directed at him. And Ryan. Mostly Ryan. In previous years Ray was just “that kid from Texas”, or “Burnie’s kid”. This year, he was “The idiot training with Haywood”. As they walked through the rink, all he could hear were the whispers around them.

Most were centered around Ryan, about how it was his first time stepping foot at a competition since he quite, about how he ditched his team, his career, and town. Every once and a while, though, someone would whisper about Ray. About how ballsy he was for trusting Ryan. Some people even commented on how good his routine must be. Clearly Ryan’s successes were still fresh in everyone’s minds.

Everything just seemed to add to the pressure and the worry until Ray was genuinely worried he would puke. It was not cool to puke at Nationals, and he didn’t need to be pegged as weak on top of everything else.

“Ray,” Ryan said, stepping in front of him. His hands landed on Ray’s shoulders and pulled him back to the present. “Stop focusing on them. They don’t matter, their opinions don’t matter. You know you can do this; _I_ know you can do this. So let’s show everyone else that you mean business this year.”

Ray nodded, swallowing around the lump in his throat. He took a deep breath, and handed his bag to Ryan so he could start his stretches. Amazingly, Ryan didn’t say a word. He kept silent and let Ray slip his headphones into his ears, just watching as he slowly stretched his tense muscles.

Ryan was right. As Ray was starting to realize he usually was. He _knew_ his short program. He’d know it by heart until the day he died with how many times he’d skated it. Today would be a breeze if he just focused on what he was doing and didn’t let his nerves lead to stupid mistakes. If he was perfect today, it would make tomorrow _so much_ easier.

Tomorrow would be when the pressure would start to pile on. Sure, he knew the routine, but a month was just not that long to start from scratch. There was no room for error this year, and Ryan knew that too. Even if he wouldn’t admit it.

Ray tried to clear his mind. He closed his eyes and raised the volume. He took another deep breath and let all the people around him disappear. It wasn’t as effective as it was when there was ice beneath his feet, but it still relaxed him a bit. He could feel Ryan watching him, but it wasn’t as nerve racking as it usually was.

He still couldn’t get a good read on the guy. He couldn’t tell what he was thinking, what he _really_ thought about Ray or his routine. Was Ryan as nervous as he was? Did he even _care_ if Ray made it through? He left of the world of skating by choice, surely Ray getting booted out early would just mean that he could return to whatever life he’d created outside of the rink. He couldn’t help but wonder what Burnie even had on him to get him to agree to coaching.

He didn’t have long to think on the matter before the ice was opened for warmups and began to fill with people. Ray laced his skates quickly before pushing his way onto the ice. He could feel people watching him—judges and commentators noting and analyzing his every move. He knew there were cameras and other coaches, but none of that mattered anymore.

All Ray had to do was close his eyes and breathe, letting his feet move to the rhythm of the song as all the tension in his muscles oozed out of him. It was easier to block everything out on the ice. All that mattered now was the feel of his blades as they carved the clean surface. Even at a strange rink, he felt comfortable. He felt at home. In a moment of clarity, he realized that even if he didn’t make the Olympic team, he would always have this. He would always have his skates.

His focus broke when he felt someone slam into his shoulder. His eyes shot open just in time to see someone speed past. They turned, and Ray felt hatred wash over him. Cory Anders. World Champion, current shoe-in for the Olympics. Grade A asshole.

“Watch where you’re skating, asshole!” Ray shouted.

“Not my fault you’re not paying attention, Narvaez.” He laughed, “Heard you got a new coach. Haywood, right? Is Burnie finally getting desperate?”

“Ryan’s an Olympic medalist.”

“He’s a drop out.”

“He’s a good coach,” Ray argued. “Better than yours.”

“Hm, are you sure? Or are you maybe… distracted by his good looks?”

“Funny, I hadn’t even noticed. Didn’t know you swung that way,” He sneered. So maybe he had noticed, maybe it _had_ been a bit distracting when Ryan got really angry and something in Ray decided that it was hot. But Anders didn’t need to know that, and he _was_ a good oach.

“You wish, Narvaez. I guess we’ll just have to see if his coaching pays off.” He laughed, and skated away leaving Ray vibrating with anger.

* * *

Ryan wouldn’t let him watch the other skaters. Which was good, but did little to help his nerves. Did he even have a chance? Ryan tried to assure him that he was fine, that he would _do_ fine, but nothing was helping. By the time the attendant came to tell them they were needed on deck, Ray felt sick. Nervousness had never been _this_ big of a problem.

They stood on the sidelines as a newbie from who knows where finished off his routine. At some point, one of Ryan’s hands found its way onto Ray’s back, rubbing in small circles. It was oddly comforting, and though he would never admit it he was grateful for the small motion.

As the kid took his final bows, Ray pressed down any nervousness he had and made his way onto the ice. He handed Ryan his guards, and for one of the first times ever, Ryan smiled. “You’ve got this.” Ray nodded back, and glided to center ice.

He took his starting position and waited for his music to begin. He was once again thankful that his routine started with choreography. It helped him get his footing, helped him find his headspace where the crowd, the judges, and the cameras disappeared. He felt nervousness spike before his first jump, but he landed it flawlessly. His confidence only grew as his routine went on. By the end he couldn’t conceal his elation if he tried. He glided effortlessly across the ice, and flew on his jumps.

When he finally returned to center ice and his music stopped, he was breathless but incredibly happy. He took his bows and collected a rose from the ice, everything blurring together until he was face-to-face with Ryan.

“That was good,” Ryan said, handing him his guards again and leading him over the scoring couch with a hand firmly placed on the small of his back. The touch was warm and welcomed. “You’re going to place with that, no doubts about it.”

Ray beamed at him. He’d never heard anything so positive come from Ryan’s mouth. He caught of glimpse of them on the screen, and waved happily at the camera. He held the rose up happily and tried to level out his breathing again. They waited anxiously for his scores.

They were good. Much better than in the previous years. 5.8’s and 5.9’s, with only one 5.5. Which put him in second, right behind Anders. By a grand total of 1 point. Ryan had been right, though. If he skated a clean long, he would place. Maybe even bump Anders out of first. The thought alone made him smile.

Ray was glad that they had almost a full day between the short and long program. It gave him a chance to calm his nerves, and to practice his program a couple more times. Ryan had rented a rink on the other side of town, and they headed over there almost immediately after the scoring.

When they arrived at the rink, hockey players were just leaving. Most of them looked at Ray weird, still dressed in his performance clothes. He couldn’t help but feel self-conscious as their eyes raked down his body, down the skin-tight material that hugged all his curves and all his insecurities. He was about to search for a bathroom when he felt Ryan’s coat land on his shoulders.

He turned to thank him, only to find Ryan directing his most hostile glare at the team. “Pigs,” He muttered under his breath. Ray ducked his head so Ryan wouldn’t see him smile.

They waited silently as the ice was Zamboni’d, and when Ray stepped on the smooth surface he felt the tension once again melt from his shoulders. It was nice to be alone on the ice, to not have eyes on him as he skated. Ryan didn’t even complain as he did a few circuits and warmed up with easy doubles. He skated his routine, and much to his surprise he did it flawlessly. He glided to a stop in front of Ryan, knowing that he had the biggest, stupidest grin on his face.

“Do it like that tomorrow.” Ryan said, “I don’t know what you just did differently, but do it again tomorrow.”

Ray skated the program a few more times. When he was happy with it, and confident he could skate it cleanly the next day, they left the rink and headed back to their hotel. “God, I’m fucking starving.” Ray groaned in the elevator. “I miss Michael. He would be waiting with food if we were back home.”

“I’ll take you for dinner.” Ryan said.

Ray glanced at him with wide eyes. “Seriously?”

He shrugged, “You did well today. You deserve it.”

“Can I order anything? Even if it isn’t green and disgusting?”

Ryan raised an eyebrow, “Pushing it a little aren’t we?” Ray pouted, pulling out his best attempt at puppy dog eyes as he looked up through his eyelashes at Ryan. “Fine, fine. Just tonight, then everything goes back to normal.”

He almost hugged him with excitement. Instead, Ray practically skipped down the hallway to change.

* * *

Ryan chose the restaurant, due mostly to the fact that Ray hadn’t been to Saint Paul and therefore had no idea of what was good. They ended up at some fancy-looking steakhouse. The hostess seated them a small, dimly lit, two-person table in the back of the room. She handed them each a menu with a smile before bouncing back towards the hostess’ station. Ray glanced down at the appetizers. He sucked in a breath when he saw that even _they_ were close to $30. He flipped to the entrees and felt his heart stop. $70 for some sort of sandwich? Seriously? He glanced nervously at Ryan, but the man didn’t seem to be concerned.

“Ryan,” Ray whispered, leaning across the table, “Ryan this place is really expensive.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“Don’t—don’t worry about it?” Ray sputtered, “A salad costs more than my groceries for a month.”

“It’s fine.”

“It’s fine,” Ray mocked under his breath, “I am rich, and can afford ridiculously overpriced food because I’m Ryan Haywood.”

Ryan sighed, “Do you want to go somewhere else, or are you going to just let me treat you to a nice meal?”

“I haven’t even _placed_ yet.” Ray pointed out.

“But you will. Now shut up and figure out what you’re going to eat.” He wanted to argue more, partially out of habit, but their waiter showed up just in time to ask for their drinks. Ryan asked for a diet coke, Ray asked for water.

Honestly, everything on the menu looked amazing, but he felt weird ordering such expensive food. He and Ryan had a mutual, unspoken agreement that they would tolerate each other. This was… not what you did if you tolerated someone. Ray flipped through the pages, reading the same thing over and over. He was starving, but felt guilty getting anything more expensive than an appetizer. He could always get room service back at the hotel.

“Are you ready to order?” The waitress asked. Ryan smiled at her. It took Ray off guard. Ryan barely ever smiled, he just figured that his face was just like that. Now here he was all smiles for their pretty waitress.

“I’ll have a New York Strip, medium-rare. More on the rare side though, please.” He purred, it made Ray’s stomach churn. “And I’ll have the steamed vegetables with it, thanks.”

“And for yourself?”

“Uh, the spinach dip, please.” Ray said. Ryan frowned.

“Yes, we’ll start with that. But he’ll have the same as me for his meal.” Ryan told her. She looked a little confused, but took their menus without question.

“What was that?” Ray asked when she was gone. “Are you ordering for me, now?”

“You said you were starving and then ordered an appetizer. I told you not to worry about the price and you didn’t listen to me.”

“Maybe I don’t like steak.”

Ryan raised an eyebrow. “You complained for three hours when I told you that you couldn’t have steak while training.”

“Well maybe I don’t like taking advantage of other people’s wealth, then.”

“You’re not taking advantage of me, Ray. I’m offering. You did good today, and I want to show you that I’m proud of you.”

“Seriously?”

“Yes. You’ve improved more than I expected. You do exactly what you’re told, with only slightly more complaining than necessary.”

Ray couldn’t stop the smile that was tugging at his lips. “Well I might have been wrong about you, too.”

“Oh, about what?”

“You’re a pretty decent coach,” Ray admitted, “You still know what you’re doing.”

“Of course I do. You don’t just forget how to do all this.” Ryan said. “Once a skater, always a skater. It’s always a part of you.”

He’d never heard someone explain how it felt so easily.

* * *

They made it back to the hotel for ten, with Ryan insisting that Ray needed to get lots of sleep before the second half of the competition the next day. When he reached the comfort of his room, Ray couldn’t do anything but flop onto the bed. Dinner had been amazing. Filling, but absolutely delicious. Eating with Ryan, spending that much time with him, had been far easier than he’d expected it to be.

He found his phone in his pocket, completely untouched since they left for dinner. He had 14 missed messages. Two were his mother, congratulating him on his short program and wishing him luck. The rest were from Michael. He didn’t even bother to read any, simply dialing his number and waiting for him to pick up.

“Fucking finally, asshole.” Michael growled, “I’ve been calling you all night, what the hell?”

“Hello to you, too. Ryan and I went for dinner.”

The line was silent for a moment. Then, “What?”

“Yeah, I was starving after the competition so—”

“Oh my god you went on a date with your coach. Ray we talked about this.”

“Michael, no.”

“Don’t you remember what happened when you fucked your first coach?”

“Michael.” Ray sighed.

“Ryan is actually helping you.”

“Michael,” He said again, and his friend finally shut up. “It wasn’t a date. We went for dinner, he flirted with the waitress.”

“Sure.”

“I’m serious. I don’t even like him as a person, never mind in _that_ way.”

“Uh huh.”

“Michael.”

“No, I believe you.”

Ray sighed. “Did you actually have a reason to need to talk to me, or…?”

“I just wanted to congratulate you, you ungrateful asshole.”

“Well, thank you. But it’s not over yet.”

“You’ll do great tomorrow, Ray. I know it.”

“I hope so.”

“Alright, well. It’s late. Call me tomorrow, before you get on the plane.” Michael said, “We’ll all be watching. I would say good luck, but you don’t need it.”

“Thanks, Michael.” Ray said. They said their goodbyes, and he ended the call with a smile. Ray realized suddenly that he was exhausted. The day finally caught up with him, and he was barely able to stay awake long enough to shower.


	3. 2015 Prudential U.S. Figure Skating Championships P.2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't wait a full week to post this, so here it is 3.5 days early. :)

Ray woke up way earlier than he wanted to. It was the only day he wasn't being forced to run. He was supposed to sleep until noon, not get up at six fucking thirty in the morning. When he caught sight of the time, Ray groaned and rolled over, desperately trying to force himself to go back to sleep. Unfortunately, his brain didn’t work like that. When he was up, he was up. So he threw on a pair of sweats, grabbed his phone and headphones, and headed outside.

Running in a city he’d never been to was weird. If he wouldn’t have had his phone on him, Ray would’ve been in constant fear of getting lost. The streets all seemed to look the same, and it was surprisingly quiet. He ran until his mind was clear, until his body felt warm despite the chill of the morning. By the time he found himself back in the hotel lobby, he was absolutely starving again. He walked up to the front desk, hoping he could order his breakfast now so it’d be almost done by the time he showered.

“Excuse me?” He said, getting the attention of the girl attending the desk. She glanced up, and her eyes went wide. “Can I order room service?”

“O-of course!” She stuttered, hands clumsily reaching for a note pad and pen. “What can I… Uh, what’s your room number?”

“Ray Narvaez Jr, room 636.”

She didn’t look up from the pad as she talked, though a slight blush was rising on her cheeks. “Right. What can I get for you, Mr. Narvaez?”

“Can I get two eggs, sunny side up, and any fresh fruit you have?”

“Of course.”

“Great, thanks.” Ray smiled. She smiled and nodded back, her face now a bright shade of red. “Uh… are you alright?”

“Yes, of course!”

“You look like you might have a fever…”

“No!” She shook her head quickly, “I just… um. I’m a big fan. Of you. Of your skating.” She sputtered out quickly, “You did really good yesterday.”

“Oh, uh, thanks…” Ray rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly as he moved back towards the elevator. He wasn’t used to people being so nervous around him. He was just a person; it was weird knowing that he had… fans.

Ray took his time showering and eating. He tried to ignore the nerves as they churned in the bottom of his stomach. Two hours before he was due to perform, Ryan showed up at his door. “I’m surprised you’re up,” He commented, stepping past Ray and into the room. “Wow, and you even ate already.”

“You broke me.” Ray replied. “Your stupid rituals broke my brain; I was up at 6:30 this morning.”

“Good. How was your run?”

“I kind of hate you.”

“Good, good. Almost ready to go?”

Ray nodded, grabbing his bag off his bed and following Ryan to the elevator. Each step he took made him more nervous. Each step reminded him what was riding on this performance, and Ray once again felt sick.

The short cab ride to the rink felt longer than ever, and walking back through the doors to the rink made his head spin. The pressure was rising; each face he saw adding to his nervousness. Especially when Anders stepped in front of them. “Well, aren’t you going to introduce me to your new coach, Narvaez?”

“No.”

“Awe, why? Think he’ll like me better than you?”

“Leave.” Ryan commanded, his voice dropping a few octaves. Anders didn’t even flinch, practically bouncing back to where his coach was standing. “C’mon, let’s go over here to stretch.” Ryan tugged Ray to the opposite end of the rink by the elbow.

He couldn’t focus as he stretched. Nothing he was doing was getting his head in the right space, and he could feel himself overthinking everything already. Ray knew he needed to get on the ice, needed to feel like it was just him again.

So when they announced the first skater to go, Ray felt his world stop. He turned to face Ryan quickly, feeling the panic rising in his chest, “What happened to the ice warm ups?”

“I don’t know. They might have been earlier today.” Ryan shrugged, “You’ll be fine.”

He didn’t feel fine. He felt like he was going to spew the contents of his breakfast at the judges as soon as he stepped on the ice. He counted on the on-ice warm ups. It was how he calmed his nerves, it was _always_ how he calmed his nerves. He’d never skated without doing it, and now the first time was right before he had to skate the most important skate of his career thus far.

He paced back and forth in front of Ryan as he waited for them to come tell him it was his turn. He was skating second to last—right before Cory. He tried to imagine himself out there, see his routine from everyone else’s eyes. He kept watching himself fall, kept watching as his quads failed.

Ryan was surprisingly quiet. He could feel his eyes tracking him, could feel the analytical gaze as he paced back and forth. But he didn’t say a single word, even when they were called to the deck to prepare.

It wasn’t until Ray handed him his guards that Ryan caught hold of his hand, “Stop panicking. Get a feel of the ice beneath your feet and _stop panicking_. You can do this, Ray. You just have to believe you can do this.”

Ray nodded. He’d never heard Ryan be more supportive but he still felt so nervous, so anxious, so… scared. He was scared of failing, more than anything else. He skated to center ice like he’d done so many times before, yet the few strides felt so much longer.

He took his starting position, hands reaching for the sky as he arched backwards. He tried to clear his mind as he waited for the [music to start](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mDhfb8mSuH8).

He was already half a beat off.

The music was slow, slower than he was used to. And it was lyrical, which Ray had been apprehensive about. Lyrical music was rarely allowed, and Ryan thought they should take advantage of it. Ray had disagreed.

His routine started with a flying camel spin. They were usually his favorite spins to do, but now he felt himself getting dizzier than usual and it only added to his queasiness. Still, the spin was technically perfect, and he finished it just as Ryan would have liked him to.

He tried to clear his head during his choreography break. It was a lot of fluid motion, lots of half-spins and reaching for the crowd. He tried to focus on his face, on looking heartbroken as Ryan wanted him to.

The first jump in his routine was a triple axel. Ray had perfected his triple three years ago, it was one of his best jumps. He gathered his speed with some forward crossovers before taking off… and landing after only two and a half rotations. He _did_ land it, but Ray felt his heart hit the floor. He messed up his first jump. The crowd cheered, but he wanted nothing more than to scream.

He was glad his routine didn’t involve a lot of smiling as he guided across center ice in a spread eagle. He couldn’t force himself to smile after that.

His next jump was his first quad—a salchow. He gained speed with backwards crossovers and launched himself upwards. Four rotations, but when he landed he felt his ankle buckle and before he could do anything, he was hitting the ice.

He heard the crowd gasp as he quickly got to his feet, but at this point he felt like there was no point even trying anymore.

The rest of the routine passed in a blur. Thankfully he landed the rest of his jumps, but when Ray glided to a final stop in the middle of the ice, curling forwards and inwards on himself, he felt far from pleased with his routine. He took his bows and picked up a rose he didn’t deserve from the cold ice.

Ryan didn’t say anything when he handed him his guards. There was no hand on the small of his back, guiding him to the couch. He forced a smile at the camera and waited for his scores, but he wanted nothing more than to run away and forget he ever wanted to skate professionally.

The scores weren’t good. 5.6s and 5.7s, one generous 5.8. He was in second, somehow, meaning he’d be bumped to third after Anders skated. Barely enough to qualify for Worlds. Ray knew he should be happy, but he wasn’t. He was ashamed of the routine he skated.

Ryan didn’t say anything to him as Anders skated a clean, perfect routine and blew Ray out of the water. He didn’t say anything as Ray stepped up to the podium and received his bronze medal. He didn’t say anything as they were driven back to the hotel, or to the airport. Ray was almost thankful they weren’t seated next to each other on the plane.

Instead he was seated next to a young girl and her mother. As soon as Ray sat down she stared at him with wide eyes, watching his every move as he got himself situated. Eventually, Ray took out a headphone and raised an eyebrow at her. “Can I help you?”

“Annie, stop staring,” Her mother chastised, “I’m sorry.” She said to Ray.

“But mommy…” Annie said quietly, “That’s Ray.”

“I’m sorry,” She said again, “My daughter really loves figure skating.”

“You’re my favorite.” Annie said boldly. “And you’re pretty.”

“Oh, uh… thanks.” Ray replied, smiling for the first time since he took the ice.

“I’m sorry you didn’t win today.”

“Me too.”

“You’re going to win the Olympics.” She said sternly.

“You think so?”

“For sure.” Her mother handed her an iPad, which was playing a movie Ray would never admit to knowing: _Ice Princess_. (It definitely wasn’t one of his favorites)

He wished he had as much confidence in himself as Annie seemed to have in him. He wished _Ryan_ had as much confidence in him as Annie did. He spent the rest of the flight not-so-subtly watching the movie with Annie (she eventually offered him a headphone, which Ray took with a smile). When the flight finally touched down in Austin, Ray wished it wasn’t over.

He quickly pulled out a piece of paper, drawing a picture of a plane and signing the bottom for Annie. She absolutely beamed when he gave it to her, wrapping her arms tightly around his neck. He thanked her mother and told them that they should come to the rink the next time they were in the area. Annie actually screeched. Her mother promised they would.

He met Ryan just outside the terminal. He still didn’t say a word, and they walked to the car in bitter silence. It wasn’t until they were half way to Ray’s apartment that he finally gave up with a heavy sigh. “Are you going to speak to me again, or what?”

Ryan raised an eyebrow, but nothing. More fucking silence.

“Look, I fucked up. My routine was shit, I barely pulled through. I don’t deserve to go to nationals.”

“No, you don’t.”

“I fucking tried. I let the pressure get to me.” Ray threw his hands up. “I’m human.”

“You’re a professional figure skater who can’t skate under pressure.”

“And you’re a coach who can’t skate, period!” Ray snapped. They were pulling up outside of his building, thankfully. “I mean; you haven’t dawned a pair of skates _once_ since you started coaching me.”

“I shouldn’t _have_ to skate. It’s not my _job_ to skate. It’s your job.” Ryan threw the car into park, rather aggressively. “You need to stop trying to pin your failure on me. It’s not my fault you choked.”

“I didn’t fucking choke.”

“Right. So what would you call that, then?”

“I would call that a mistake. I let the pressure get to me because this is my last goddamn chance at my entire life’s work!” He shouted, “And all you’ve done since you got here was make me feel like I’m a shit skater!”

Ryan’s voice was just as loud, just as angry in return. “I’m making you better.”

“You’re making me fucking hate myself!” Ray was almost vibrating with anger. His breath was coming in short spurts as he stared at Ryan’s stupid face. He wanted to hit him, he wanted to scream at him more. But he didn’t to any of that. Instead he found himself moving forward at the same time as Ryan, their lips crashing together.

It was all teeth, all violence and desperation. Hands pulled at clothes and hair as their tongues fought for dominance. There was too much space between them. They were both pressed against the center console, and the only thing stopping Ray from climbing over it and directly into Ryan’s lap was his seatbelt.

At some point Ryan pulled away just enough to speak, his hands still tugging Ray impossibly closer. “Where’s Michael?”

Ray glanced at the clock on the dash, “Work. Three more hours.”

Almost immediately, Ryan was letting go of him. Ray tried to follow, until he realized that Ryan was getting out of the car. And moving towards the building. He barely managed to get his seatbelt off before he was stumbling out after Ryan and leaving the fogged windows of the cramped car behind.

Ray didn’t get the chance to unlock the door. Ryan grabbed him roughly by the hips, pulling him closer and pushing them both towards the wall. Ray felt the cool wood of his door seeping through his thin t-shirt, and it was like ice against his burning skin.

Ryan moved from his lips, kissing a trail across his chin as Ray panted. He let his head fall back against the door, his fingers finding their way into Ryan’s hair. It was just as soft as Ray had imagined it would be.

Ryan moved to his ear, biting the lobe and whispering—no, breathing, “Well, are you going to let me in?”

Ray groaned as he stepped away, leaving his entire front cold. He turned quickly, reaching into his pocket for his keys. Ryan stepped forward, pressing himself into Ray’s back. His lips found their way back to Ray’s ear, nibbling on the sensitive skin and making it very hard for Ray to get the key in the lock.

When they door finally opened, he almost cheered. He barely managed to remove his keys from the lock before Ryan was spinning him around again and pressing their lips together. He started backing them up, towards the couch. Ray pulled away just enough to speak, his lips moving against Ryan’s as he did so. “If Michael found out we fucked in the living room he would kick me out.”

“Well where’s your bedroom?”

Ray fisted a hand in his shirt and tugged him backwards, leading him down the familiar hallway and into his room. Ryan growled—actually growled—and shoved him onto the bed. He shut the door firmly behind him before beginning to peel off his shirt.

He couldn’t do anything but watch as the fabric was lifted away, revealing muscles Ray definitely wasn’t expecting to see. Clearly Ryan was still keeping up his work out routines, and Ray wanted nothing more than to run his hands down his skin. Before he could contemplate getting up to do just that, Ryan was moving towards the bed. His hands landed on either side of Ray, one of his knees nudging its way between his legs as he pressed his lips to Ray’s again.

This kiss was slightly gentler, but not much. Ryan’s hands found their way to the hem of his shirt, dancing along the line between the fabric and his skin and leaving a trail of fire in their wake. Slowly, painfully slowly, his hands moved up Ray’s stomach, rubbing gently across the skin as he lifted his shirt.

They broke the kiss just long enough for Ryan to tug Ray’s shirt over his head. Every touch, every press of lips to skin was desperate and burning with need. Ray once again let his head fall back in pleasure as Ryan trailed wet kisses down his chin, his neck, his torso… his hands made quick work of the button on Ray’s jeans, and he slid them down slowly as Ray moaned.

Ryan knew how to do things Ray could’ve never imagined. He left him breathless and panting. Ray had never been very vocal, yet Ryan had him chanting his name and begging for more. His fingers tugged at Ryan’s soft hair, clutching and relaxing as he fell into the pleasure. Every touch of Ryan’s fingers on his skin seemed to flare a desire he didn’t know he had, every kiss had his eyes drooping closed, and Ray wanted more, more, more.

Ryan stopped suddenly, leaving Ray whining for more. He heard Ryan’s pants hit the floor, and before long Ryan’s lips were on his own again. Ryan’s movements were rough, forceful almost, but damn if Ray didn’t enjoy it.

“ _Fuck,_ Ryan.” He panted, nails dragging across his back desperately, “Fuck, Ryan _more._ ”

His back arched with pleasure, and his moans got louder. He was sure his neighbors could hear him but he could care less. All he cared about was the feeling of Ryan all around him, inside him. He came first, shouting loudly and clutching desperately at Ryan’s shoulders, pulling him close and wrapping his arms tightly around Ryan’s neck as he arched high off the mattress. It wasn’t long before Ryan followed behind him, grunting against his neck. His breath caused shivers down Ray's spine.

Ryan collapsed next to Ray in the bed, both of them breathing heavily. Ray wanted to curl up against him, mostly out of habit. He hated just… laying there after sex. But he wasn’t dating Ryan. He didn’t actually know what had just happened, and what it meant. Or if cuddling was allowed. He guessed not.

Ray had been wrong before, and Ryan’s arm found its way around his shoulders, pulling him against his chest. He pressed a kiss to Ray’s forehead—an action far more tender than Ray was used to. An action far more tender than what one would expect to follow angry sex. If he wasn't so exhausted, Ray would worry more about what it meant. Instead, he felt his eyes starting to droop closed and let himself succumb to the exhaustion.


	4. Let's Do This Again Sometime

Ray woke up to the sound of the front door opening. “Shit,” He hissed, jumping out of the warmth of Ryan’s arms—because what the _fuck_ was he doing there anyway—and moving to lock his bedroom door. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

He looked at Ryan, still sleeping on his bed, and back to the door. Where Michael would inevitably be in about five seconds. He looked down at himself and his lack of clothes. “Shit.”

“Ray, you home?” He heard Michael ask. Footsteps were getting closer.

“Yeah,” He shouted back. “Just getting unpacked.”

“Have you eaten yet today?”

_Oh thank god._ “No, not yet.”

He heard Michael stop, and sigh. Then the footsteps were heading back in the opposite direction and his voice was getting quieter. “I’ll make you dinner.”

“Thanks, Michael!” He gathered clothes off the floor, throwing them on as quickly as possible before scribbling a messy note down and taping it to Ryan’s forehead.

_Michael’s home. When you wake up, stay here and pray he didn’t see your car._

He headed into the kitchen quickly, closing his door firmly behind him. “Hey.”

“Hey, how was Saint Paul?” Michael asked, barely looking up from whatever he was cooking. Whatever it was, it smelled heavenly and Ray realized just how hungry he was, despite the sickening feeling even _thinking_ about the competition gave him.

“You saw how it was.” He muttered, “I fucked it up.”

“You’re still going to World’s, Ray.”

“Yeah, and if I get there and do that, I’ll be the laughing stock of the competition. I _barely_ made third, Michael. One more mistake and my whole life’s work would’ve been out the window.”

He didn’t comment. Michael knew that he was right, even if he was too nice to say it. He knew that Ray was a better skater than that, and if Ray had to guess, Michael was probably just as disappointed as everyone else. “So…” He said after a while, “How did Ryan take it?”

Ray was glad his back was to him, because he could feel himself blush. He glanced to the bedroom door. “Not well,” His said, his voice cracking. He cleared his throat and kept talking, hoping Michael wouldn’t question it. “He didn’t say a word to me from the minute I came off the ice until we got back.”

“Damn.” Michael placed a steaming plate in front of him, Stir Fry. Ryan would disapprove, which just made it better. “I wouldn’t worry about it too much. He had a lot of confidence in you, is all.”

“Yeah. Sure he did.”

“He did.” Michael insisted, taking a large bite of his own food. Not that it stopped him from talking right through said bite. “I know you think the guy hates you, and hey maybe he does, but he definitely thinks you’re a good skater. He thinks you can do this; do you?”

Ray sighed. He wished he could say yes. His whole life he’d been saying yes. Because he thought he could, but now he wasn’t sure. “I’ve never been that nervous. It was like I just… couldn’t get out of my head. I overthought everything and… well, you saw what happened.”

“I’ve seen you land those jumps thousands of times, Ray. You know you can do it, so what was stopping you?”

“I don’t know, that’s the thing. I skated the routine perfectly just the day before. Like five times. I should’ve done it perfectly. I just… I don’t know. I don’t know what happened out there, and I don’t know how to stop it from happening at World’s.” Ray sighed, “It’s like every time I have to skate I can’t stop thinking about the fact that this is my last chance, and I blow it.”

“So you’re subconsciously giving up before you begin, basically.”

Ray pushed the food around on his plate, his appetite gone. “I guess, yeah.”

“Well stop it. You’re fucking good—better than that asshole that you keep coming second to. You need to get your head out of your ass and focus on the fact that you _know_ you can do this. We all do.”

“Thanks, Michael.” Ray said. He meant it, even if his head still wasn’t on straight. He knew that Michael, and Burnie on a quieter note, would always support him and keep him on track.

“Are you wearing Ryan’s shirt?” Michael asked. Ray looked down and felt himself blush. He was, indeed, wearing Ryan’s burgundy T-shirt. He must’ve grabbed it without realizing…

“Yeah. A… um, kid puked on mine on the plane.” He said quickly, “Actually, I better go change so I can give this back to him.”

“Is that his car outside?” Michael questioned. He was looking at Ray like he _knew_ he was hiding something.

“Uh, not that I’m aware of?” Ray squeaked out, rather unconvincingly, as he walked quickly towards his room so Michael couldn’t press the subject further.

* * *

When he got back to his bedroom, Ryan was sitting on his bed fully dressed (minus his shirt). Ray closed and locked the door firmly behind him without making direct eye contact. He stayed facing the door, not wanting to face whatever awkward conversation they were about to have. “I don’t suppose we can forget that this ever happened?”

“No.”

“Not even if I ask really, really nicely?” Ray pleaded. He heard Ryan sigh from behind him, then the bed creaked just slightly. Which meant—a hand landed on his shoulder and even though he knew it was coming, Ray still jumped. Ryan turned him around slowly. The first thing Ray’s eyes landed on was his bare chest. Which looked just as good as it had when he’d familiarized himself with how it tasted three hours earlier. He dragged his eyes upwards, trying not to think about what other parts of him had followed the same path, until he met Ryan’s eyes.

He didn’t look angry, or regretful. He looked… calm. His eyes were as blue and mesmerizing as ever. “Was it bad for you?”

He blinked once. Twice. That was not what he was expecting Ryan to say. “What?”

“Was the sex good, or bad? It’s a simple question.”

“I mean; it wasn’t bad… definitely not bad.”

“Good.”

“Was it bad for you?” Ray asked tentatively.

“No, definitely not.”

“…Good.”

“So there shouldn’t be any reason for awkwardness. We were angry, and we let that out in a slightly unconventional way.” He shrugged and sat back on the bed, “We’re human, shit like this happens sometimes.”

“Right.” Ray nodded. He began to pace slightly in front of the door. “Right, okay. I can get on board with that. Except Michael can’t. He can’t even know this happened.”

“Are you embarrassed?”

“You’re my coach, Ryan.” Ray stopped to look at him. “It’s not the first time something like this has happened, and last time things didn’t end so well.”

“Oh god, it wasn’t Burnie was it? I don’t know if I can deal with that.”

“Ew, no. God no, Burnie is like a fucking uncle to me or something.” Ray replied hastily, nose scrunching at the awful mental image Ryan caused. “It was before I met Burnie, way back in New York. I don’t really want to talk about it.”

“Okay. Well, I can live with Michael not knowing. Burnie, too. They give us enough trouble as is.”

“Agreed.”

“Right.” Ryan’s fingers began to drum on his knees, “So what’s the plan? Wait until Michael falls asleep and then I sneak out?”

“I guess so…”

“Right.” The silence was so awkward Ray wondered if he could cut right through it. He paced in front of the door some more, chewing on his fingernails and glancing at his clock every three seconds. Michael would be up for _hours_ —what the hell were they supposed to do?

He could feel Ryan watching him, feel his eyes following him from right to left as he paced slowly. Ray couldn’t stop thinking about… everything. _“Was the sex good, or bad? It’s a simple question.”_ Of course it had been good. It’d been fucking amazing, and to say it’d been a while since Ray had gotten any would be an understatement. But he _couldn’t_ think any of that, because Ryan was his coach. His _coach_. Ray swore he’d never let himself get into this shit again.

He glanced at Ryan, only to find him still watching. “Are you freaking out?”

“What? No.” Ray stammered, “Of course not. Why would I freak out?”

“Kind of seems like you’re overthinking it. You have a tendency to do so, after all.”

“I’m not. It’s fine. I had sex with you. Whatever.”

Ryan sighed, “Great. Then will you calm down and just come sit down before you wear a path through the floor?”

Ray considered his options, quickly realizing that he pretty much had no other choice. He couldn’t just leave Ryan alone in his room, and he wasn’t going to spend the next however many hours silently pacing in front of his door. So he moved over to the bed—his bed—and sat gingerly on the very edge. He heard Ryan sigh, and then hands were on his hips and dragging him backwards. When his back hit Ryan’s front, he froze.

“Just relax, for god’s sake. You’ve seen my dick; I think we’re past this awkward formality bullshit.”

“Can we stop talking about your dick. And where it’s been, please?” Ray said, still ridged against Ryan. “I just… I can’t believe we did that.”

“Seriously?” Ryan laughed, and Ray felt the vibrations travel through him. It didn’t feel bad, and Ryan was really warm…

“What, was that your plan all along? Get me vulnerable and pissed and then… well, y’know.”

“No. I had no intentions of sleeping with you. You annoy the hell out of me.”

“Thanks.”

“However,” Ryan continued, “It doesn’t mean I regret it necessarily. It was a good stress relief that we both needed. It was a good way to get the anger out, now we can get back to focusing on what we were actually meant to do.”

“Right, the competition.”

“Yeah.” Ryan’s hand moved from his hip to his stomach, his thumb tracing gentle circles on Ray’s there in a very not-just-my-coach way. Ray tried desperately to ignore it. Maybe Ryan was just a touchy person when he wasn’t being an asshole. “So now that the immediate tension is gone, do you wanna tell me what happened out there?”

“I… I don’t know. I couldn’t get out of my head.” Ray fidgeted in Ryan’s arms, “Michael said I’m subconsciously giving up before I begin.”

“Why, though? You did it great the night before.”

“Yeah, that was practice. When it came time to actually do it…” Ray frowned, “It’s just so daunting, knowing that if I fuck this up I’m done.”

“You’re not done. You could get to the Olympics at least twice in your career, maybe three times if you don’t get injured.”

“Yeah, _if_ I get in this year. If I get in this year, then they already consider me in the following years. If I don’t, I continue being a face in a crowd.”

Ryan sighed. Ray could feel his chest rise and fall, and his breath tickled his neck and sent shivers down his spine. “I don’t get it. Half the time you’re all confidence, and the other half you act like you’re an amateur. As far as I’m aware, you’ve either placed first or second in every competition since you started training with Burnie—with a few rare exceptions.

“You have all the qualifications, why doubt yourself?”

Ray shrugged. Ryan was his coach, he was supposed to be able to tell him stuff, but there was a point where it was just too personal. Even thinking about it embarrassed him, so he didn’t talk about it. Not even to Michael, not even really to his mom. “I guess I just do.”

“That’s not a good enough answer, care to try again?”

Ray shrugged again, trying to squirm out of Ryan’s hold. The arms around him only tightened. “I just… I do, okay? I don’t think I should be able to do this because look at me—look at where I came from. I’m just some kid from New York who got lucky. My parents are amazing and they got me a good coach and it helped me get where I am today, but I’m not like the other people on the circuit. I didn’t have sponsorships and I didn’t get to go to a whole bunch of competitions when I was younger.

I’m nothing special. There isn’t anything that stands out. I’m just another face in the crowd, and I just… I feel like I’ve had to work harder than anyone else I know, had to give up more only to end up in second place. Always in second place when Cory Anders is involved.”

“Are you fucking kidding me, Ray?” Ryan sighed heavily, shifting them so he could stare directly at Ray. Unfortunately, this meant their faces were only a couple inches apart and Ray could already feel the blush creeping up his neck. “You seriously don’t think you’re anything special? Do you not hear the crowd when you go out there? I think you get too nervous, but god damn you’re a piece of work, Ray. You’ve got more energy in you on your worst day than Cory Anders has on his best, and you use it to mesmerize the crowd. People get lost in your routine, they can’t help but smile.

You have something that Cory Anders, and many skaters just like him, will never have; You’ve got passion alongside that raw talent. You actually love what you’re doing.” Ryan paused, “You do love it, don’t you?”

The second time someone had asked him that in as many days. “Of course I love it. If I didn’t, I wouldn’t be so scared of losing.”

“What do you mean?”

“If I lose, I can’t skate anymore. Not like this. If I lose, I lose the only thing that really makes me feel alive and happy in the world.”

Ryan beamed at him. Actually _beamed_. Ray had never seen him smile so brightly. Even more shockingly, he leaned forward and pressed a quick kiss directly to Ray’s lips. “I never want you to say you’re not special, then. Because fucking Christ, Ray, you’re one of the best skaters I’ve seen. Now let’s try this again, do you think you can do this or not?”

“I do.” Ray said, and for the first time in a long time he actually felt like he might be telling the truth. He didn’t know what to think about everything Ryan said. About the fact that he actually thought Ray was good… really, really good. But his stomach was a flurry of butterflies and happiness. He didn’t know what happened to get Ryan to pull this 180, but he was glad he did.

* * *

It was over four hours before Michael finally trudged off to bed. He only tried to bug Ray once, but Michael had always been one to give him personal space when he needed it and assumed that Ray was just too upset over the competition. He and Ryan spent the time talking quietly and playing on the DS Ray always kept in his bedside table.

He discovered Ryan didn’t really like or understand Pokémon, but loved to game in general. Which came as quite a shock to Ray, but it helped ease the tensions. Before he really knew what was happening, he was lying half on top of Ryan as he started yet another play through of the game (because Ryan had to experience it. That was Ray’s excuse and he was sticking with it). He couldn’t believe how different things felt between them, how relaxed and unhostile they were with each other.

Sometimes Ray would catch Ryan looking at him, and he could swear there’d be something in his eyes. That stupid fucking glimmer that cheesy romcoms always talked about. But that wasn’t possible because he was Ryan, and they hated each other. They slept together in a spur of anger and sexual tension, but not… like. They didn’t like each other.

Except now Ray wasn’t sure what he thought of Ryan. Because when he wasn’t bossing him around, he was funny. Ryan seemed to share Ray’s darker humor, and they could actually hold a conversation. Sure, they never really talked about anything _important_ —at least, not after Ryan’s decision to tell Ray he thought he was decent—but they did talk. For hours.

They waited half an hour for Michael to fall asleep, and then Ryan was shifting and sitting up and Ray was realizing just how much he liked having that warmth beside him. When he said goodbye to Ryan at the door, he felt sad. Actually sad.

It wasn’t until he got back to his bedroom he realized Ryan never asked for his shirt back. He’d just put on his coat and left. Ray lifted the material to his nose, breathing in the now familiar sent, trying not to think about why Ryan left it behind too much. He yawned. The emotional stress of the competition, added onto whatever it was that was going on with Ryan, was _exhausting_. He slid into a pair of flannel pants, but couldn’t bring himself to take off Ryan’s shirt.

* * *

Ray woke up the most heavenly of smells wafting into his bedroom: pancakes. He rolled out of bed, clumsily managing to grab his glasses as he stumbled into the kitchen, still dazed and half asleep. “You made pancakes.”

“I thought it’d be okay to take a break from Ryan’s meal plan for a day,” Michael shrugged.

“I think I’m in love with you, Michael Jones.”

“Alright, alright, keep it in your pants.” He grimaced, placing a steaming plate in front of Ray. His stomach growled, so he quickly smothered his pancakes with syrup before digging in. By the time Michael turned around with his own plate, Ray was finished. With a sigh, he placed two of his own on Ray’s plate. Tradition.

“Delicious as always. Your food could cure cancer.” Ray said through a mouthful of food.

“Well thanks.” Michael took more care in preparing his breakfast. Even his butter-to-syrup ratio was a work of art. “So I’ve gotta go in today, but what’s your plan?”

“I dunno. Maybe I’ll actually play some _CoD_ today. It’s been a while since I kicked some loser’s asses.

“Alright, just try not to vegetate on the couch all day. You’ll hate yourself for it tomorrow.”

Ray stuck his tongue out at Michael as he moved to put his dishes in the sink. He thanked him again for an awesome breakfast before retreating back to his room. He headed for his phone first, and was welcomed by a whopping 3 messages.

_Missed call from **Mommy** , 9:30am  
**Mommy**_ 9:32am _: Hey baby, just wanted to check in on you. I know how you get when things don’t go just right. Call me when you get the chance. <3_

**From: _Asshole_** 3:32am ** _:_** _So, I was thinking… what if last night wasn’t a one-time thing? I think it’d help your program if you weren’t so high strung all the time._

Ray stared at his screen, reading the words but not comprehending what they meant. Because there was no way Ryan was saying that. So he ignored the message and called his mom.

It felt nice to talk to someone who knew him and all his little habits and flaws. His mom didn’t try and act like he hadn’t fucked up, because she knew how hard Ray was on himself. Instead she told him that she was still proud of him, and that she was so glad he got to Worlds, and knew that he would do great. Ray didn’t tell her what happened with Ryan. Not because he thought she would disapprove, but because he didn’t really know what was going on himself. He told her he loved her, and hung up all too soon. Meaning he was forced to acknowledge—and deal with—whatever the fuck it was Ryan was trying to do.

**To: _Asshole_** 10:29am _: What_

Elegant, beautifully put. Ray amazed himself sometimes with his wordiness. Regardless, a text came through not moments later.

**From: _Asshole_** 10:30am: _It was late, I don’t know what I was thinking when I sent that. Sorry._

Ray bit his lip. The idea of sleeping with Ryan again wasn’t completely unappealing. Actually, it was incredibly appealing. So he sent back a text that was far bolder than anything he’d thought himself capable of, and prayed Ryan didn’t take it the wrong way.

**To: _Asshole_** 10:35am: _The idea wasn’t necessarily bad, just… surprising._

**From: _Asshole_** 10:40am: _Oh. Okay._

It was awkward. Far more awkward than Ray thought it would be, but he didn’t regret the text. Maybe it _would_ be a stress relief. Maybe it’d help him keep focused and not panic so much. Or maybe he was just really horny and Ryan was admittedly very hot.

**To: _Asshole_** 10:41am: _Okay._

**From: Asshole** 10:42am: _Does Michael work today?_

**To: _Asshole_** 10:43am: _Yeah, but I can’t risk him coming home early and walking in on anything. Your place?_

Ray expected Ryan’s response to be immediate. Instead he sat and stared at the _Read_ message, wondering how he’d already managed to fuck it up.

**From: _Asshole_** 10:53am: Okay. I’ll pick you up at noon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Really glad to see everyone's enjoying this story so far! It's super fun to write and I love hearing what you guys think about it. (:


	5. Well, Fuck.

There was an hour between when Ryan texted and when he was due to pick Ray up. Normally, an hour would feel like nothing. He’d have a shower, change out of his PJs, and take his time and it’d be… 11:24. Ray sighed, and flopped over on the couch. He was nervous and excited and felt a little nauseous, and fuck he just wanted Ryan to show up already. He glanced at the clock again, 11:26.

He was about to turn his Xbox on when there was a knock on his door. Ray startled at the sound, and he couldn’t help but feel embarrassed despite the fact he was the only one in the apartment. He had no reason to be so on edge, it wasn’t like this was the first time he’d ever been a booty call. Even if it was the first time his booty was getting picked up and moved half way across town beforehand. He opened the door expecting to see some sort of religious solicitor. Instead he found Ryan, looking slightly sheepish.

“Oh, you’re early.”

“I didn’t know how long it’d take to get here, I thought it’d take longer.” Ryan said.

“Oh, okay.” Ray cleared his throat, suddenly feeling really awkward about what was about to go down. Because he was about to go and sleep with his coach. Again. Probably more than once. If Michael knew he’d probably strap Ray to a chair and force him to watch _Ice Castles_ until he cried.

“Yeah, I can wait in the car if you’re not ready…”

“I’m ready. Just let me grab my keys.” He closed the door in Ryan’s face—which was way more satisfying than it should be—and ran to his room. He put on more deodorant, just in case, and grabbed his keys and phone before run-skipping back to the front door.

The air was different when he opened the door this time. There was still an awkward under draft, but that tension was back, the desire that had pulsated between them the last time they’d been in Ryan’s car together. He could feel Ryan’s eyes on him as he locked his door, moving up and down his body and making him feel surprisingly self-conscious. Ray adjusted his sweater as they moved down the stairs and to Ryan’s car.

He had no idea where they were going, Ray realized as they began their journey to Ryan’s house. He didn’t know what to expect when they got there, or how far away it was. Each minute that passed seemed to inch the tension higher as the night before came back in bursts. Ray remembered the feel of Ryan’s tongue fighting with his own, of it moving down his neck and chest and towards his crotch. He thought of Ryan’s hands—bigger than his, and strong. He thought about the feel of them on his hips, gripping tightly as Ray moved and squirmed beneath him. He thought about Ryan’s lips, and how they felt against his own. It didn’t matter if it was rough and desperate, or soft and lazy, Ryan managed to drive him crazy.

He looked at Ryan now, focused on the road and providing Ray with a nice look at his profile. Which is why Ray could take no responsibility for leaning over and pressing a kiss right bellow Ryan’s ear. “What was that for?”

“I don’t know. I wanted to do it, so I did.” Ray shrugged. He moved forward again, pressing another kiss slightly lower on his jaw, and another just below that one.

“Okay, well as…” Ray could feel Ryan shiver as he nibbled at his earlobe, “As great as this is, it’s a little distracting and I really don’t want to…” Another pause as Ray moved down his neck, “Really don’t want to crash us. I don’t think Geoff would forgive me if I got you killed.”

Ray smiled against his skin, “How far?”

“Huh?”

“How far away are we?”

“Maybe ten minutes.”

Ray kissed his cheek quickly before moving to face forward again, “Can we get there in five?”

* * *

As soon as Ryan shifted the car into park, Ray was leaning against the center console and pressing kisses to his neck and face. Ryan turned quickly, grabbing Ray’s face in his hands and pressing their lips together roughly. Ray’s arms found their way around his neck, pulling him closer as a moan of pleasure escaped his lips.

“As fun as this is,” Ryan panted, his lips barely far enough from Ray’s to speak, “I think a bed would be far more comfortable.”

Ray hummed against his lips and pulled away regrettably. He stepped out of the car quickly, slamming the door shut behind him and heading towards Ryan’s front door. Except, now that he wasn’t preoccupied with other things, he could get a good look at Ryan’s house.

It was huge, for starters. Especially compared to what Ray and Michael had. The outside was modern, and by the looks of the lawn Ryan was either a very good gardener or he had hired help. Ryan opened the door for him, and when Ray stepped inside his eyes get impossibly wider. “My apartment must have felt like a shoebox.”

“It was cute,” Ryan chuckled from behind him. His arms snaked their way around Ray’s waist, and he nuzzled his nose into Ray’s neck. “I’m just surprised your and Michael’s combined attitude fits in there.”

“Ha, ha.” Ray laughed dryly. “I want a tour.”

“Now?” Ryan asked, “Can’t it wait until after we release some tension?”

Ray stepped away from him, out of the warmth of his arms, and turned with his hands on his hips. “I’m not some sort of call girl, Ryan. Be slightly hospitable and show me your fucking mansion.”

“It’s not a mansion, Ray.”

“It is when you live in an apartment the size of mine.” Ray retorts, and for once Ryan doesn’t argue back. Instead he sighs and ushers Ray into his living room first.

The house, it turns out, has four bedrooms, three and a half bathrooms, a pool, and a home theater in the basement that would be absolutely perfect to play video games on. The only room Ryan skips over is his office, simply pointing at the door as they walk by. “What’s so personal in there?” Ray asks, pushing the door open even as Ryan protests.

The room seems to hold everything from Ryan’s days as a figure skater. Ray realizes that there isn’t a single trophy or poster throughout the rest of the house. In fact, if he hadn’t known better he would never have guessed an Olympic figure skater even lived here.

But in this little room… There were trophies and gold medals _everywhere_. More than Ray had for sure, and many more impressive than his own. There were magazines with Ryan’s face, with him and Burnie and Geoff. There were full-sized poster prints of a younger Ryan in the middle of a jump or a spin, and it took Ray’s breath away to see him actually _skating._

Tucked away in the corner—more like shoved away—was Ryan’s USA Olympic jacket. Ray picked it up gingerly, holding it between his fingers like a cherished artifact. “Why do you hide all this?”

“Because it’s in the past. This isn’t who I am anymore.”

“You’re telling me this stuff,” Ray picked up a skate from the floor, worn and well-loved not dislike his own, but dusty and with dulled blades, “Doesn’t mean anything to you anymore?”

“No.”

“How can you…” Ray shook his head, looking for the words, “How do you just stop loving it? Did you love it?”

“Of course I did. It was my life.”

“Then how?” Ray pressed, “How did you do it? How did you just walk away from everything?”

“That’s not really any of your business.”

Ray looked down at the jacket, still in his hands, and nodded. “I just…” His voice was quiet, barely heard over the sounds of Ryan’s AC kicking in. “I just want to know so that I can, too.”

Ryan stepped closer, his hands reaching to take the jacket from Ray before pulling him close. “You don’t have to walk away from anything. You’re going to make it, Ray. I swear to god you’re going to make it.”

Ray pressed his face into Ryan’s shoulder, partially so he wouldn’t see the tears forming in his eyes, but also because the feeling of Ryan so close made him feel so much better.

* * *

After Ray’s little breakdown, the mood was kind of ruined. Ryan didn’t seem to mind, simply leading Ray out of the office (and closing the door firmly behind them), and to the living room. He sat Ray on the couch, handed him the remote to his giant fucking TV, and headed to the kitchen to make them lunch.

Ray couldn’t really focus on anything except the fact that Ryan seemed to actually believe in him despite his massive fuck up. He ended up watching some home improvement show that he barely paid attention to. He had expected Ryan to come back with a simple sandwich, but when he finally reappeared he was holding two giant bowls filled with a salad that looked surprisingly amazing.

He placed one bowl in front of Ray, and sat down with his own before stealing the remote. Ray took a generous bite and _holy fuck_ it was good. He turned to stare at Ryan as he chewed. “This is fucking good.”

“I know.”

“You can cook?”

Ryan chuckled, “How do you think I’ve survived all these years?”

“Honestly, with all the Diet Coke you drink I thought it fueled you.”

“Ha, ha,” Ryan laughed dryly, “You’re funny, you know.”

“I know.” Ray smiled around his fork, “But really, you drink all that crap and get mad at me for having a cup of coffee once and a while?”

“May I remind you that I’m not the one hoping to become an Olympic athlete?”

Ray couldn’t argue with that. So he shoved another giant forkful in his mouth and glared at the TV as Ryan channel surfed. He eventually stopped it on a sports channel, and they continued to eat in silence as the reporters on screen rambled on about some hockey game the night prior.

Ray had never really liked hockey, but ever since he started skating professionally he’d began to hate the sport. Not so much the players—they were generally bearable—but the goddamn fans. The fans were the ones constantly berating him for his choice of sport. They liked to say all figure skaters were weak and that it wasn’t a real sport. Which Ray found absolutely ridiculous seeing that he spent most of his life falling on his ass on the ice without any padding. Hell, figure skaters ended up with more concussions than most other winter sports.

Which is why Ray had adopted a saying he heard while at a competition up in Canada; If it was easy, they’d call it hockey.

Regardless, Ray would watch all the hockey in the world to avoid the next story they wanted to report on. “So moving onto another ice sport, the 2015 Prudential U.S. Figure Skating Championships were this weekend in Saint Paul,” One reporter said.

“Yeah, and it was quite a year this year. Cory Anders and Ray Narvaez Jr. were there, as usual, and their rivalry seems to be as heated as ever.” The other added on. Ray rolled his eyes. Their ‘rivalry’ was the media’s favorite thing to report on during competition season.

“And Narvaez got a new coach, didn’t he?”

“He did. Ryan Haywood. This is the first time anyone’s heard from him since he quit.” The reporter laughed and it spiked Ray’s anger, “There were lots of rumors he was dead.”

“Well, he seems to be better than the old coach. Haywood’s choreography for Ray’s long program was beautiful, even if the actual execution was a mess.”

“I agree. It was bold to use lyrical music, but it really worked for Ray’s skating style.” It was a compliment, but it felt like an insult. “As for how he skated… we’re all shocked, to say the very least. I don’t think I’ve seen him make that many mistakes since Nationals last year.”

“Yeah, it seems that he’s just constantly struggling to even _qualify_ for Worlds—what’s he going to do when he gets there?”

The TV clicked off, but Ray couldn’t look away from the black screen. They had a point. Ryan moved quietly, gently nudging Ray’s gaze to his own with a hand on his cheek. “Don’t listen to them. I can see you starting to overthink this. Don’t.”

“They’re right.”

“They’re not.” Ryan pressed a kiss to his lips, gentle and slow. “You know that you’re more than capable of succeeding at World’s. Stop convincing yourself otherwise.”

“But…”

Ryan pressed a kiss to his forehead. “No.” One to his right cheek, “I know you can do this.” One to his left cheek, “You know you can do this.” One to his lips, “So do this.”

Ray moved closer, wrapping his arms tightly around Ryan’s neck as he pressed their lips together. Almost immediately, Ryan’s hands found their way to Ray’s waist. His hands found their way beneath the fabric of his t-shirt, and Ray shivered at the touch. He broke away from the kiss, moving to nibble at Ryan’s ear as he moved to straddle his lap. He heard his bowl, half full with salad, topple to the ground but neither him nor Ryan seemed too bothered by the mess.

Ryan’s hands found their way back to Ray’s hips, pulling him closer. Ray moaned at the friction, even through his jeans. He could almost feel Ryan smile at the sound, and suddenly the grip on his waist tightened as Ryan nudged Ray into moving. More moans escaped his lips as Ray’s head fell back. Almost immediately Ryan’s lips found their way to his exposed neck. Ray clutched at Ryan’s shirt, hands fisting in the material as he moaned loudly. He was glad they didn’t have to worry about nosy neighbors or roommates coming home early.

“Ryan,” He breathed, “Ryan. As good as this is,” Another, loud moan as Ryan’s hands dipped lower, “Can we please move it to a bedroom?”

He expected Ryan to let go of him, not for him to simply grab his ass and stand up. Ray immediately tightened his grip on Ryan’s shoulders, “What the fuck are you doing? Put me down before you drop me.”

“I’m not going to drop you; you weigh like 2 pounds.” Ryan said simply, and then his lips were on Ray’s again and suddenly it didn’t even matter that he was going to crash to the floor because _damn_ Ryan could do things with his tongue Ray didn’t even know were possible.

Their journey to the bedroom wasn’t smooth, and Ryan had to stop multiple times to shove him roughly against the wall as he readjusted his grip, but make it there they did. Ray was unceremoniously dropped onto Ryan’s bed and _holy hell_ it was ten times more comfortable than his.

“We’re not doing this at my apartment ever again,” Ray said, “Your bed is too comfortable.”

“Good. I like hearing your voice.” Ryan practically growled as he moved closer. His hands began working on removing on Ray’s clothes. “And I’m sure I’ll love hearing you scream.”

Ryan made quick work of his own clothes, and scream Ray did.

* * *

Ray woke up to the sounds of his phone vibrating loudly from somewhere on the floor. He squirmed out of Ryan’s arms, missing the warmth immediately, and heading to the pile of clothes on the floor. By the time he managed to locate his phone, the call had already gone to voicemail.

 _“Shit._ ” Ray hissed.

 ** _30_** _missed calls from_ **Michael** , 12:00am.  
**10** missed calls from **Burns** , 11:00pm.  
**Michael** , 9:00pm: _Hey, where’d you go?_  
**_Michael_** , 9:45pm: _Ray? Where are you?_  
**Michael** , 10:00pm: _Seriously. Why aren’t you answering your fucking phone??_  
**Michael** , 10:05pm: _Ray Narvaez Jr. I’m going to fucking kill you, pick up your goddamn phone._  
**Michael** , 10:30pm: _Ray. Where are you, man? Pick up._  
**Burns,** 11:00pm: _Asshole, answer your goddamn phone. Michael’s worried about you._  
**Michael** , 11:00pm: _Please call me, Ray._  
**Michael** , 11:05pm: _I tried to report you as missing, but the police said it was too soon. Fucking call me._  
**_Burns_** _,_ 11:15pm: _You’re in so much shit tomorrow, Narvaez._  
**Michael** , 11:30pm: _You’re fucking dead tomorrow, Ray. I swear to god. Fucking call me._ **  
Michael** , 11:45pm: _THIS IS AGAINST THE ROOMMATE RULES. FUCKING CALL ME.  
**Michael** , _12:00am: _When we moved in together we said that we would always let the other know when we weren’t coming home, what the fuck happened to that??_

Ray stared at the screen, his dread getting increasingly worse. “Fuck, shit, fuck.”

“What’s wrong?” Ryan asked groggily.

“We fell asleep and Michael has been calling and texting me for 3 hours because I didn’t think I’d spend the night.”

“Shit.”

“We need to think of a reason for me to be over here.” Ray glanced down as his phone vibrated again, “Now.”

“Uh… We decided to work on your next routines and fell asleep.”

“It’s shitty, but it’ll have to do.” He pulled up Michael’s number and hit the _Call_ button. “Wish me luck.”

The phone rang once, and Ray didn’t even get a chance to say hello before Michael was yelling loud enough Ryan could hear it on the other side of the room. “ _WHAT THE FUCK, RAY? WHERE THE FUCK WERE YOU?”_

“I’m sorry. Ryan called a last minute meeting. He wanted to—”

“I don’t fucking care what he wanted to do. Why the fuck didn’t you leave me a note, or send a fucking text? I thought you were fucking dead.”

“I’m sorry—I completely forgot. I thought I’d be home but I fell asleep…”

“Right. Sure.” He heard Michael sigh. “You better not show your face in this apartment tonight. I don’t want to see you; I’m too fucking angry with you.”

“Michael…”

“I called the fucking _police_ Ray. I thought you were _missing_.”

“I know, I’m sorry…”

“I’ll see you at the rink tomorrow.” Michael said, and then the line went dead and Ray was left feeling ashamed and empty.

“Shit, I’m sorry Ray.” Ryan said softly. Ray heard the bed creak as he got up, and within moments the growing familiarity of his hands found their way onto his shoulders. “I didn’t even think about Michael.”

“Me neither.” Ray sighed, “How could I forget my best friend for some fucking meaningless sex?”

Ryan’s soothing circles stopped, and his hands immediately pulled away. “It happens. You’ve been dealing with a lot the past couple of days.” His voice was monotonous. Like Ray had said something to offend him. But he couldn’t have. Because it was just meaningless sex. That’s what Ryan wanted.

“I’m not allowed to go home.”

“I heard.” Ryan stood, and Ray could hear him pulling on his pants. “You can sleep in the guest bedroom for tonight, I guess.”

He looked up at Ryan and, sure enough, he looked completely emotionless again. Nothing like Ray had been used to the past couple of days. He sighed and stood, grabbing his clothes from the pile on the floor. Ryan started moving towards the door, but Ray simply lifted a hand. “I remember where it is, thanks.”

The bed in the spare room was cold and uncomfortable, and Ray felt like complete shit. He’d managed to piss off two people he really cared about in a five-minute time span. He didn’t even know why Ryan was so upset. He was the one who wanted this… coach with benefits bullshit. He didn’t think of Ray as a friend, never mind someone to have… not meaningless sex with.

Even if it meant something to Ray.

* * *

He woke up to a cold bed the next morning after what was possibly the longest night of his life. He felt bad about Michael, he felt bad about whatever the fuck he did to Ryan. He looked at the clock on the bedside table and noted that it was 5:30am. A new record for him getting out of bed voluntarily. He was quiet as he got up, trying to avoid waking Ryan at all costs as he pulled on his clothes (which now felt gross and dirty) and headed into the kitchen. He found a scrap of paper and a pen and scribbled a quick note.

_Gone home. I’ll see you at the rink._

He wasn’t 100% sure where he was, nor how far his and Michael’s apartment was, but he knew that he wanted to get out and go home to shower. So he slipped on his shoes, and started running in the direction he assumed was home.

The cold of the morning felt good despite the uncomfortable feeling of running in jeans and converse. It was nice to get away from everything. Ray tried to figure out where exactly he was. Of course now he wished he’d paid more attention to the road when they were headed out to Ryan’s place. He looked for familiar street signs, but this was definitely one of the nicer communities in Austin that he’d never been to.

He stopped, chest rising and falling heavily, and pulled his phone out of his pocket. He’d barely managed to open _Google Maps_ when a car screeched to a stop next to him, scaring the shit out of him. He turned, ready to give the driver a piece of his mind only to come face-to-face with a pissed off Ryan in nothing more than a pair of boxers.

“Ryan?” He asked, watching as the man in question stormed his way over.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

“Uh… going home? I need to shower and get ready for practice.”

“It’s at least a forty minute run to your house from here, and the sun isn’t even up yet. Are you fucking crazy?” Ryan asked, “Why didn’t you just wait for me to drive you?”

“You weren’t too happy with me last night. I wanted to give you time to cool off before practice.” Ray rubbed the back of his neck nervously, “I mean, maybe we shouldn’t even be doing this—” Ryan cut him off by storming over and pulling him into a tight hug.

“Don’t ever do that. Don’t just run off like that.” Ryan said into his hair, “I don’t care if I’m on the verge of murdering you, don’t you dare try and pull that disappearing act on me.”

“I’m sorry.” Ray muttered into Ryan’s chest, his arms moving to wrap tightly around him, “I’m sorry for last night, too.”

“Don’t apologize, you didn’t do anything wrong.” Ryan pulled away, “Now c’mon. I’ll make you breakfast and you can shower then I’ll drive you home.”

“Okay.”

Ryan’s car was warm, as was the hand that found its way onto Ray’s knee. He didn’t know what to think of everything. He didn’t know what to expect when they got to the rink, or what was going to come of this… whatever it was he and Ryan had. Things were more complicated than ever.

The shower was warm, and welcomed. It felt nice to take his time and enjoy himself as the bathroom got steadily steamier. Though part of him hoped Ryan would come and join him, he managed to thoroughly enjoy the time to himself.

It wasn’t until he got out of the shower that he realized that he really didn’t want to put his old, sweaty clothes back on. So he headed back into Ryan’s bedroom and rummaged through his drawers until he managed to find a pair of sweats and a t-shirt that simply read “Ryan Haywood” along the back. The shirt was well worn and smelled of Ryan, which was a sent that was quickly becoming comforting. As for the pants… Ray had to pull the waistband considerably tighter, and the legs were far too long. He felt like a child trying on adult clothes as he shuffled into the kitchen.

“Breakfast is almost ready,” Ryan said, turning to face him. He froze, pan in hand, as his eyes slowly moved down Ray’s body. “I want those back. You already stole one of my favorite shirts.”

Ray stuck his tongue out, sliding onto one of the stools at the island. A plate of eggs was placed in front of him, and it smelled almost as good as the ones Michael made. His stomach grumbled and Ray realized just how hungry he was. Ryan was quiet as they ate, but his eyes never left Ray. “So.” Ray said after he finished eating, “We told Michael that we were working on my short program. Please tell me you have some ideas.”

“I do. I think I’ve got the perfect song for it, too.”

“Oh?”

Ryan smiled, “You’ll see.”

* * *

They got to the rink two hours later than Ray was used to, and the first thing he did was dump his bag on Ryan and move quickly to the kitchen. Michael was still fuming, he could see it long before he got to the door, but he pulled Ray into a tight hug regardless. “I’m really sorry, Michael. It’ll never happen again.”

“It better not.” Michael said simply as he let him go. “You’re late, by the way.”

“Ryan made breakfast, then I had to go home and shower and stuff before we got here.”

“He cooks?”

Ray nodded. “It’s surprisingly good. Not as good as yours, though.”

“Of course not, no one is a good as me.” Michael smiled, thankfully, and Ray knew they’d be okay. “Now go, before Ryan comes over here and yells at you for wasting precious practice hours.

“Okay. I’ll see you after practice.” Ray said, and practically skipped off to put his skates on. He knew Michael would likely want to have a talk with him about being responsible and not scaring the shit out of his friends when they got home, but they’d be okay. They would always be okay, because they were Michael and Ray.

When he stepped on to the ice for the first time since that weekend, Ray felt all his stress practically melt off his body. For once, Ryan let him do his own thing for the first hour, not commenting or correcting as Ray glided around the rink and improvised routines to the music Burnie was playing over the speakers. When he landed his Quads, he heard Ryan cheer and he couldn’t help but smile.

“Now how can you skate _like that_ and then tell me you don’t think you’re good enough?” Ryan asked as he glided to a stop in front of him. Ray shrugged. “No. That was amazing, as far as improv goes. It just proves that you know what you’re doing. You’re more than capable of all these moves, we just need to figure out how to get you out of your head during the competitions so you don’t panic.”

The dynamic between them was different somehow. Ryan was… nicer almost, and Ray couldn’t figure out if it was because they had sex, or because he understood what was going on in his head now (for the most part). Either way, he had more patience. Ryan was still, without a doubt, a hard ass, but now there was an undertone of understanding. To say it wasn’t a pleasant change would be a lie, and it helped Ray relax into what they were doing.

He was half-way through the choreography they’d began to work on when he heard the distinct sounds of a squealing child. Ray stopped mid-spin and turned toward the noise, finding an incredibly excited Annie. “Hello Ray!” She shouted happily.

Ryan looked confused as he skated over happily to the boards. “Hi, Annie! How are you?”

“I’m awesome! Mommy said I could come today because I got an A on my spelling test!”

“Did you!” Ray smiled up at her mother, who looked slightly apologetic, “That’s awesome! So, are you going to come skate with me today?”

Annie gasped happily, “Can I? Can I really?”

“Of course! Why don’t you go get a pair of skates while I go tell Ryan?”

“I have my own skates!” She replied, holding a small skate bag up as proof. When her eyes landed on Ryan behind him, some of the excitement in them dwindled. She tugged on the sleeve of Ray’s hoodie until he kneeled next to her. “I don’t like him, he’s scary.”

“Him? No!” Ray leaned closer, stage-whispering into her ear just loud enough Ryan would hear. “That’s just his face, we try not to talk about it.”

Annie nodded knowingly. Her eyes were wide, but sympathetic. It made Ray love her more. “Oh, I see.”

“Go get your skates on, I’ll get them to Zamboni the ice.”

“Thanks Ray!” Annie shouted excitedly as she skipped towards the benches. Her mother stayed back long enough to offer a hand, which Ray shook happily. “I don’t think I ever introduced myself, I’m Bev.”

“Nice to meet you.”

“If this is inconvenient for you, please let me know. I know you’re training.”

“Oh, don’t you worry about it. It’ll be a nice break, actually. Ryan can’t turn away a little girl, even he isn’t that heartless.”

Bev laughed, “Okay. Thank you again for doing this.”

“Of course.” He watched her walk over to Annie before turning to Ryan. “That’s Annie and her mother Bev. I met them on the plane back from Saint Paul.”

“Okay, and they’re here because…?”

“I told them to stop by at some point, Annie is a big fan.”

“Ray.” Ryan said, shaking his head, “You’re training.”

“Yes, and we can consider this my lunch break. Now if you’ll excuse me I need to go ask Jeremy to Zamboni the ice.” Ryan didn’t say anything as he stepped off the ice and pulled on his hard-guards.

Ray hadn’t seen someone get so excited to skate in a long time. Annie had her skates on and tied, and was rearing to go long before Jeremy was finished. She talked a mile-a-minute about the lessons Bev had put her in starting last winter and how she was getting _really good_ and her teacher said that she could skip a whole _two levels_. It actually was quite impressive.

She said that she wanted to go to the Olympics, too. She said she wanted to be just like Ray, and it touched him more than he’d ever admit. Ryan moved to talk to Bev once Jeremy gave them the okay to go on the ice. Annie stepped out and her entire face lit up. She looked how Ray felt every time he skated, and it was incredibly refreshing. His fellow competitors just didn’t get that look, and he wasn’t sure if it was because they didn’t have fun anymore, or if maybe they never did.

Annie was surprisingly good for her age. She could skate pretty fast and was steady on the ice. She obviously had no fear of falling, which was good. Burnie started playing _Disney_ music over the speakers and she squealed with joy.

It was nice to skate without the pressure of doing anything amazing. He got to spin and twirl around with her, but he didn’t have to do anything to difficult. Ray found himself laughing and smiling and actually forgetting about all the shit that had been plaguing his thoughts.

Every once and a while he’d glance over to the sidelines to see Ryan and Bev watching them. Bev looked at her daughter like she was her entire world; the sun, the moon, the stars… everything. She looked at Annie like she was the most important thing in the world, because she was. It warmed Ray’s heart because it’s how _his_ mom always looked at him when she watched him skate.

All of that faded away, however, when his eyes finally drifted over to Ryan and he saw the same glimmer. Ray felt himself stop, felt his heart flutter happily. Ryan was looking at him like he was something special, some _one_ special to him. But he couldn’t, because they hated each other.

Right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much to everyone leaving reviews/asks on Tumblr. You guys literally make my day almost every day, and I'm glad you're enjoying reading this as much as I'm enjoying writing it. Also for anyone new, I post a chapter every Monday. Unless shit gets really intense at college, then it might be a couple days late. <3


	6. What Doesn't Kill Us

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully this chapter answers some questions. ;)

Ray stormed into the kitchen with his small laptop in hand, and slammed it down on the counter. “Hello to you, too.” Michael said. He hadn’t given him nearly as much shit as Ray had expected. Michael explained his worries, mentioned what happened the last time Ray didn’t come home, and Ray had apologized and promised to never, ever do it again. They’d hugged it out, and everything was okay. Just like Ray knew it would be.

“I’m going to look up Ryan.” Ray stated. It’d been something that he’d wanted to do since he stumbled into Ryan’s _Room of Glory_ (as he’d started to call it).

“What?”

“I want to see what kind of skater he was.”

Michael stared at him, spatula in hand, for a solid minute. “Are you seriously telling me you’ve _never_ looked him up before, never seen him skate?”

“No.” Ray shrugged, “I never really thought about it.”

He pulled up _YouTube_ and typed in Ryan’s name. The first option that came up was his first Olympic free program. “How is that even possible? _I’ve_ seen him skate, and I don’t even really _watch_ skating.”

“You watch skating all the time,” Ray pointed out, “You love it.”

“How have you never looked him up? He’s your coach!”

“Yeah, yeah.” Ray waved him off and hit play. Ryan was wearing a simple costume, but fucking Christ was it attractive. He wore black slack-looking skating pants that hugged his ass in all the right spots, and a dark blue t-shirt and was practically painted on. The fabric clung to his muscles, accentuating them. Ray could feel himself blush at the fact that he was getting turned on by a fucking video of his coach.

Ryan was all confidence. Where Ray had always been softer on the ice, his blades quieter than average despite holding just as much power, Ryan was the complete opposite. You could hear him carve the ice even over the music. Everything was charged with energy. His jumps were huge, flawless, and beautiful. But most shocking of all was the look on his face as he skated. He fucking loved it. He loved it as much as Ray loved it, and it just made no sense why he quit.

Ray continued to stare at the screen long after the video stopped playing. “Are you okay?”

“He’s…” Ray took a deep breath, “Wow.”

“My god, I can see your skating boner from here.” Michael joked, but it just made him blush more because he was definitely sporting an _actual_ boner that he was very glad Michael couldn’t see.

“I didn’t know he could skate like that.”

Michael nodded knowingly, “He was really good.”

“I don’t understand why he quit.” Ray bit his lip, “He was so good. He was a shoe-in for the Olympics. Why did he leave all that behind?”

“I don’t know.”

“He’s got a room, y’know.” Ray interjected, “In his house, he’s got a room. It’s full of skating stuff. Everything he collected in his years as a professional skater is just shoved in there, like he’s ashamed of it. Even his Olympic jacket.”

“You’re assuming he quit through his own volition. We don’t know what actually happened, Ray; No one does.” Michael pointed out, “Maybe that stuff is painful. If he didn’t want to quit, then it’s all just a reminder of what he lost.”

Ray frowned. “I never thought about that. I always assumed he just left, everyone does.”

“Yeah, well, skaters are kind of assholes, I don’t know if you noticed.”

“Yeah, we are.” Ray bit his lip, “So I know I’m still in big shit for Sunday night, but can you drive me over there? Please?”

Michael sighed, but nodded. “The things I do for you.”

* * *

Ryan answered the door in boxers, which was a very pleasant sight. “Oh,” He blinked down at Ray, “I didn’t know you were coming over.”

“If it’s a bad time I can come back later.”

“It’s never a bad time,” Ryan smiled, waving to Michael as he moved aside to let Ray in. “So what’s up?”

“Can we talk?”

“About what?” Ryan asked, “Can I put clothes on first?”

Ray frowned, genuinely considering it. “I mean, if you _have_ to.”

Ryan smiled and kissed the top of his head, “Make yourself comfortable, I’ll be right back.”

Ray watched him leave (quite happily, Ryan really did have a nice butt) before making his way into the living room. He didn’t know if Ryan would talk to him. Ray still didn’t really know what their relationship was. They’d definitely evolved past coach-with-benefits, but he didn’t know what they’d evolved into. All he knew was that his heart fluttered whenever Ryan kissed his forehead or ran his fingers down Ray’s spine while they basked in each other’s company after sex.

He thought maybe Ryan did, too. He looked at Ray differently than he used to. The raw desire was still there, but it was underneath. There was a layer of something else there, but Ray didn’t know what. He didn’t have too much time to ponder the idea before Ryan was coming back into the room in jeans and a t-shirt. It just reminded Ray of his costume and made him blush.

“So what’s up?”

“I saw your first Olympic Free Program,” He blurted out, and his blush got deeper. “I realized I’d never really saw you skate, so I looked you up on _YouTube_.”

“Okay? I kind of figured you’d already done that.” Ryan shrugged, “I’m not going to get mad at you for that, Ray. It’s not like it’s a big secret—”

“Why did you quit?” He interrupted. Ryan shut down almost instantly, and Ray knew that he shouldn’t have asked, but it was too late to turn back now. “You were _amazing_ , Ry. I just… I don’t understand.”

“I told you it’s not really any of your business.”

“That’s bullshit!” Ray shouted, standing up and storming far enough away that Ryan’s body heat couldn’t drive him crazy. “You know about my shit. I’ve told you stuff _Michael_ doesn’t even know. I’ve told you stuff that is too personal for Michael to know because I _trust_ you. So why can’t you trust me? Or is this just some stupid, pointless relationship to you? Am I just an easy fuck?”

Ryan sighed, “Ray.”

“No! Don’t _Ray_ me. I don’t fucking understand what’s going on here. I don’t know what I’m supposed to be doing or… or _feeling_ but I know that you’re not just a good lay to me.” Ray crumpled, letting himself slide to the ground, “I mean, you’re my coach. I’m supposed to trust you, but how can I do that when you don’t trust me?”

“I do trust you,” Ryan said, getting up and moving to kneel next to him. “And you know that you’re not just someone to fuck. You _know_ that.”

“Then why?” Ray asked, shrugging off the hand that found its way onto his shoulder. “Why won’t you tell me why you quit?”

“I’ve spent the last five years not telling anyone. The only people who know are my parents, my old coach, and Burnie. And hell, Burnie only knows because he was there.” Ryan sighed, “I was embarrassed. I still am embarrassed, and I’m ashamed. I don’t talk about it because I don’t want to think about it. It was easier for me to forget about skating completely than for me to deal with the fact that it was my own fault I couldn’t do the one thing I loved most in the world.”

“What happened, Ryan?” Ray asked softly.

“I was stupid.” He replied. “I’d just qualified for the Olympics for the third time in my life, and I thought I was invincible. The media thought I was hot shit, so I thought so too. I let myself fall into this high-and-mighty mindset. I thought I was untouchable. And I knew I was impressive. I knew that there were people who loved me, and like an idiot I let that get to my head.

“I started partying. I started getting drunk, staying out late. I fucked a lot of girls, I fucked a lot of guys. I lived lavishly and forgot about what got me there. Skating became something to use to impress people, and impress them I did. Until I was at a party and I was drunk and a group of girls wanted to see me skate. I knew that I was drunk, and I knew that it was dangerous to skate recreationally, never mind the shit we do. But I still fucking did it, because I craved the attention.

“I went to the rink with this group of girls and I laced up my skates, and I skated my short. The first jump came around and I didn’t think twice about launching myself into the air because I thought I was fucking amazing. Well, gravity kept working and I came crashing back down, I broke my leg, and ended my own career. There was no way I would’ve been healed enough to skate by the Olympics, and I was too ashamed to return after that. So we paid off the girls and I disappeared.”

“Ryan,” Ray breathed, moving closer to him. He still wouldn’t look at him, but Ray could hear the tremor in his voice. He wrapped his arms around him, and Ryan melted into him. He buried his face into Ray’s shoulder and cried. Ray didn’t speak. He ran his fingers through Ryan’s hair, and pressed kisses to the top of his head, but he didn’t speak. He let Ryan cry, because he knew that he probably never did.

“I was such an idiot,” Ryan croaked out.

“You were young,” Ray soothed, “Everyone lets the fame get to them at some point.”

“I worked so hard to get there, Ray. It was everything I wanted in life.”

“I know. And you were amazing.” He did know, because it was exactly how he felt. He also knew that no words could make this better. It was something that Ryan would always have to live with. “I’m sorry.”

“Me too.”

They didn’t talk for a long while. Ray continued to hold Ryan as he calmed down again. He was glad Ryan told him, but he wished he could help somehow. The idea of losing something you love completely due to your own mistake was painful, it was no wonder Ryan hid it all away. “Hey, Ry?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks for telling me that.” Ray said softly. “I know it was probably hard, but thanks.”

“You were right, you deserved to know.” He pressed a gentle kiss to Ray’s lips, “It felt good to tell someone that, too.”

“I’m sorry for calling you a quitter.”

“Don’t apologize. I knew that people would call me a quitter, I could’ve denied it at any time.” His fingertips danced along Ray’s skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. “I technically did quit, too.”

“No you didn’t, you retired.” Ray kissed his nose. “Old man.”

“I am not _old_.”

“You’re like 30.”

“I’m 29.” Ryan sighed. “Which isn’t even ten years older than you.”

“Yeah but that’s like _ancient_ in skating years.” Ryan rolled his eyes and pulled Ray close, kissing him firmly on the lips.

“You’re such a little shit,” He said between kisses.

“You like it.” Ray retorted as Ryan’s lips traveled down his neck.

Ryan chucked against his skin. Ray moaned as Ryan nipped at his neck, “Yeah, I do.”

“Did you just give me a fucking hickey?”

“I did,” Ryan said with a smile, “And I’m planning on giving you more.”

“What the hell am I supposed to tell Michael?”

He shrugged, “That’s sounds like your problem.”

Ray once again swore than if Ryan wasn’t so fucking attractive and _good_ at what he did, he would fucking murder him.

* * *

Ray remembered to text Michael this time, even if the text was very short and might not have made very much sense because Ryan wouldn’t actually leave him alone long enough for him to send it and he couldn’t exactly be expected to focus with Ryan’s tongue moving its way down his skin.

Things were different somehow. Ryan was different, and it was definitely a good different. It was almost like they finally felt comfortable with each other. They understood more about each other, and somehow it made the sex even fucking better.

The afterwards was better, too. It wasn’t awkward anymore, Ryan would clean them up then pull him close and they’d cuddle. Actually _cuddle_ , which still came as a shock to Ray because Ryan definitely didn’t seem like the cuddling type. Not that he was complaining, because Ray really loved cuddling. He liked to know that he could just relax into Ryan and doze off. He liked that Ryan would draw patterns on his back with his fingertips. He made it very easy for Ray to fall asleep.

When he woke up, the bed was empty. Which was slightly disappointing, but usually meant that there would be food waiting for him in the kitchen. He didn’t even think about putting his own clothes back on, instead choosing to grab another pair of Ryan’s sweats from his drawers, though this time he forwent the t-shirt.

Sure enough, Ryan was waiting with a delicious looking plate of scrambled eggs. His eyebrows twitched when he noticed Ray was shirtless, but he sighed when he saw his sweats. “Okay, you’re not taking those home. You’ve got one pair already— _and_ two of my t-shirts.”

Ray just smiled.

The eggs were _really_ good. Like, Michael good. He was glad that the two people he spent the most time with were good cooks.

“So I have something for you,” Ryan said as he watched Ray eat.

“Presents? I love presents.”

“It’s nothing special, but I want you to have it,” Ryan said, “Finish up and I’ll go grab it.”

Ray practically inhaled the rest of his eggs before skipping into the living room. Ryan emerged from the office shortly after with his Olympic jacket in hand, and Ray felt the whole world stop. “Ryan.”

“I want you to have this,” Ryan repeated, holding it out for him. Ray took it with shaky hands. “But you’re going to have to give it back when you get one of your own.”

Ray threw his arms around Ryan’s neck, feeling tears stinging his eyes. Ryan’s arms wrapped themselves tightly around his waist in return and Ray just felt so at home, albeit a little embarrassed for tearing up over something so small. “Thank you, Ry. Really, I… this means a lot.”

“I want you to know that I’m rooting for you. Whenever you feel like you can’t do it, I want you to remember that _I_ know you can. I know that you’re going to get a jacket of your own.” He ran his fingers through Ray’s hair, “Until then, this is yours.”

“I…” Ray shook his head, pressing himself tighter against Ryan, “I don’t even know what to say. This is like the nicest thing I’ve ever gotten.”

“Nicer than your $2000 skates?”

“I love my skates, but they can be replaced. This is special.” Ray pulled away enough to look at him, “This is your _Olympic jacket_ —I’ve dreamed about having one of these since I first stepped on the ice and you…” He pushed himself onto his toes so he could give Ryan a big, sloppy kiss. “You’re amazing.”

“Alright, alright. Enough sap.” He pulled away and ruffled Ray’s hair. “It’s time for practice. I’ve been letting you slack off too much.”

“I have not been slacking,” Ray retorted, but he didn’t argue when Ryan nudged him towards the bedroom. He slipped on his old clothes and pulled the jacket over his shoulders. It felt heavy, but good. Really, really good. He turned to the mirror in Ryan’s bedroom and hissed in a breath at the sight of him in the jacket.

It was too big—Ryan’s shoulders were far broader than his and it showed, but wearing it just… Ray took in a deep breath and rubbed at the tears in his eyes. He’d been crying a lot lately. “It suits you.” He nodded, staring at Ryan in the mirror. “Just think how good it’ll look when you’ve got one with your name on it.”

* * *

Michael and Burnie were chatting idly when they walked through the doors, but they both fell silent pretty quickly. Ray pulled the jacket tighter around himself, feeling self-conscious. Like a child playing dress up.  He felt Ryan’s hand on his lower back, guiding him towards them and calming him down.

“Is that your jacket?” Burnie asked, “I thought you threw that out.”

Ryan shook his head, “I couldn’t bring myself to throw away any of it.”

“So…” Michael looked at Ray, then to Ryan. Like he just _knew_ something was going on. If Ray had to guess, Michael probably had his suspicions already.

“So I gave it to Ray, just until he gets one of his own.”

“Really?” Burnie asked at the same time Michael said, “…Right.”

“I’m hoping it’ll keep him focused.” Ryan said simply, nudging Ray in the direction of the rink. He went gladly, wanting nothing more than to hide from their questioning gazes.

Practice was a good distraction. Even the off-ice training didn’t feel as awful as usual. Ray felt more confident, more capable. Ryan was different, too. More relaxed around him. Whenever Ray finished a move and skated over for feedback, he’d touch his hand or his shoulder. His voice was softer, more helpful in place of angry.

When lunch rolled around, Ryan pulled him close. His breath tickled Ray’s ear as he whispered, “Meet me in the visitor’s changing room. 5 minutes.”

He could feel the blush creeping up his neck as he stumbled over to Michael and scarfed down the sandwich placed in front of him. Michael gave him a weird look when he got up to leave, but didn’t say anything. Ray felt a little guilty—he always spent his lunch talking to Michael—but the idea of Ryan’s… well, everything was too tempting to pass up.

He barely made it through the door of the changing room when hands were gripping his waist tightly and pulling him close. Ray jumped, even though he knew it was Ryan. The man in question chuckled as he pressed their lips together. Out of habit, Ray’s arms found their way around his neck. It was weird being almost the same height as Ryan with his skates on, but it made it easier than ever to push himself closer.

“This is very inappropriate,” Ray panted as Ryan pulled away to press a trail of wet kisses down his neck, “If Burnie found out he’d kill us both.”

“Do you want to stop?”

“Fuck no.” Ray moaned.

“You’re going to have to be quiet,” Ryan hummed, and the sensation went directly south. “I know that’ll be a struggle for you.”

“I can be quiet.” Ray insisted. Almost instantly, Ryan was shoving him back against the wall and pressing a knee between his legs. Ray couldn’t stop the loud moan that escaped his lips. “Fuck you, asshole.”

“Maybe later.”

Ray’s head fell back as he panted, melting against Ryan’s touch. He bit his lip, then his sleeve, in an attempt to keep his voice quiet as Ryan slowly drove him absolutely crazy with the gentle massaging of his knee. “If you don’t stop doing that we’re going to have a serious problem.”

“Oh, is that so?” Ray could hear the cocky smile in his voice, even as Ryan buried his face in his neck. “What kind of problem.”

“You’re a fucking asshole,” Ray hissed, “You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

Ryan chuckled, “Of course I do, but it’s so much more fun to see you get all flustered.”

“I repeat my earlier sentiment: you’re an assho—” Ryan’s knee shifting just slightly, and addition of his hands finding their way under his shirt Ray couldn’t stop the high-pitched whimper that escaped his lips. “Motherfucker.”

Ryan chuckled again, and Ray decided he’d had about enough of it, so he used every ounce of strength he could muster, and flipped their positions. Ryan let out an adorable squeak of confusion, staring Ray down with wide eyes. Ray’s lips found their way onto Ryan’s pretty quickly as he made quick work of the button on his jeans. “What are you doing?”

“Not so fun when the situation is flipped, is it?” He quipped as he lowered to his knees. He watched Ryan open his mouth to protest, but the words quickly dissolved into a moan as Ray’s hand found its way into his pants. He smiled as he listened to Ryan’s confidence and composure fall as his hand worked. He lifted Ryan’s shirt enough to press kisses to the skin just above his jeans, biting little marks into the skin there that only he would see.

“Ray…” Ryan breathed, and fuck if it didn’t feel amazing to hear his name on those lips. To have the situation reversed for once.

“Yes, Rye-bread?”

“Ray if you don’t stop I’m going to…” Ray twitched his wrist, and Ryan whimpered. “You’re going to be in so much shit after practice.”

“You’re that confident I’m coming home with you?” Ray teased. Ryan had pretty much dominated during sex since they started, and watching him fall apart under his touch was far more satisfying than Ray could’ve imagined. His fingers laced in Ray’s hair, pulling and tugging at it as he groaned. Watching him try to talk, try to retort, only to shudder as he reached his climax, was almost enough to push Ray over the edge, as well.

Ryan’s hands found their way from his hair to his shoulders, pulling him upwards and crashing their lips together. “You’re definitely coming home with me.”

* * *

“Ray!” Michael called as him and Ryan headed out, “Are you guys seriously working tonight, too? How much more can you do off-ice?”

“We’re flushing out what we want to do for my free program,” Ray lied. His stomach turned uneasily. He knew Michael didn’t believe him, and they just… they didn’t lie to each other.

Michael crossed his arms, “Well are you going to come home tonight?”

“Uh, maybe.” Ray rubbed the back of his neck guiltily, “I’ll try.”

“Right.”

He followed Ryan out of the rink, but the feeling in his stomach wouldn’t go away. When they were in the relative safety of Ryan’s car, he let out a sigh. “I can’t lie to Michael.”

“I thought you didn’t want him to know.”

“I don’t, but I can’t lie to him. I hate lying to him.”

Ryan nodded slowly, “You do whatever you have to do.”

“It’s not that easy.” Ryan smiled sadly at him, and placed a hand on his knee. Ray groaned, “I don’t like being an adult.”

“No one likes it, but it’s part of life.” Ryan shrugged, and his hand moved from Ray’s knee to the gear-shift, leaving him more confused and frustrated than ever.

* * *

For the first time since they started sleeping together, Ray couldn’t fall asleep afterwards. He tried to snuggle closer to Ryan, who tightened his arms and attempted to soothe him with gentle circles on his back, but nothing worked. After a while, Ryan sighed, “What’s wrong, Ray? What’s bugging you?”

“I…” He paused, the words dancing along the tip of his tongue. Every time he thought about talking his throat closed up and his heart pounded in his chest. “I have to tell Michael.”

“I know.”

“You don’t,” Ray retorted, squirming out of his grasp. “You don’t know.”

“Ray?”

He hung his head, “I shouldn’t have done this, I shouldn’t be _doing_ this.” 

“I know Michael’s protective, but he—”

“No, you don’t know.” Ray repeated, and stormed his way directly into the bathroom. He turned on the tap, then turned it off again. He paced in the small space, biting at his nails. It wasn’t long before there was gentle knocking on the door.

“I can’t know if you don’t tell me, Ray.” Ryan said softly. “So c’mon. Come talk to me.”

“I don’t know if I can.”

“Okay.” Ryan said simply. “Well, I’ll be right here when you’re ready—if you’re ready.”

He listened as Ryan slid down the door, followed by a light _thump_ of him hitting the floor, and Ray once again felt himself tearing up. He _hated_ it. He hated that he was crying so much, he hated being so fucking _weak_. He sat with his back to the door as well, and breathed.

He wanted to tell Ryan everything, he knew that he deserved to know and he knew he could trust him but… Ray didn’t know if he could handle what telling him would do. He’d been through it enough times, the pitying looks and the hesitance in their touches from then on. He didn’t know if he could do that with Ryan.

Ray didn’t know how long they sat there, quietly, before he finally mustered enough courage to stand up and open the door. The concern was obvious in Ryan’s face, but Ray just moved to sit on the bed again. Ryan followed, but he left space between them. Ray was glad.

“I…” He paused, tried to gather his thoughts, “I had a coach, back in New York. I don’t remember how he found me, I think Michael may have helped, but he was… well, he was great. He made me great. It was while he was training me that I mastered my Quad Salchow, and when I started to do really well in competitions. I was only 16, and I was kind of blown away by him. I thought he was the sun and stars and everything in between and…”

Ray took a deep breath, playing with the hem of his shirt, “And when he approached me and asked if I wanted to go back to his house for dinner I didn’t think twice before accepting. He ordered Chinese and offered me a glass of wine. I’d never been offered alcohol before, and I wouldn’t ever drink it again, but it made me feel special. It made me feel like an adult.

“As it got later, he got closer. His hands found their way into my lap and my hair, and when he kissed me I didn’t protest because… because I thought he was attractive, and he was nice. He was gentle that night, and I was fully willing. He was 35, but I gave him my consent.” He couldn’t look at Ryan, he didn’t want to see the look on his face, “I thought he liked me, I thought I was special. For a while, it was good. I… enjoyed it. He treated me nicely and made me feel good.

“Everything changed in a blur. He started getting rough and demanding. He didn’t try and woo me with food or alcohol. He’d drive us back to his house after practice, fuck me, and then send me home. My mother would wait up every night, and every night I’d come home looking like shit. She didn’t know what was going on, and she didn’t know how to stop it. Neither did Michael.”

Ray took another deep breath and tried to steady his voice. “It didn’t take long for me to stop wanting it, but he didn’t care. He’d drag me to his house after practice—I had bruises from his hands for months—unless I clung to Michael and begged him to take me home. I let him use me for… months. I just, I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t want to tell Michael, I couldn’t tell my mother, I felt like I deserved it after a while.

“It took me a long time to gather the courage to tell Michael. I might never have told him if he wouldn’t have hit me so hard I fucking passed out—that was the last straw. I didn’t go home that night, I got on a train and I went straight to New Jersey and to Michael. I showed up at his doorstep at 2am a complete mess and he had to fucking put me back together. He made me go to the cops, he told my mother, he’s the reason that scumbag is in jail.”

Ray could feel himself shaking, be it due to anger or the stress of remembering the shit he went through. He wanted curl up to Ryan, but he couldn’t look at him. He couldn’t see that _look_ in his eyes. So he kept his gaze downwards. Ryan didn’t speak for a good while, but when he did his voice was coated in venom. “He’s fucking lucky he’s in jail.”

“What?”

“He’s lucky he’s in jail because I’m pretty damn close to fucking murder right now.”

Ray laughed, but there was no substance to it. “Michael said the same thing.”

“I just…” He could feel Ryan’s hesitation already, his internal struggle of whether or not he could touch him, “I don’t know what to say. I don’t want to apologize; I know you’ve probably heard enough of that. I wish I could turn back time. I wish I knew how to make it better.”

“I don’t need you to make it better.” Ray said. “I need you to not treat me differently. I need you to realize that it wasn’t your fault. I need you to realize that I’m not breakable.”

“Ray…” Ryan’s hands reached for him, but Ray turned away from the touch.

“No, Ryan.” He looked him in the eyes for the first time, and sure enough that damn pity was there. “I didn’t want to tell you because I didn’t want… this. I don’t want your fucking pity.”

“I don’t—”

“You do. I can see it in your eyes.” Ray hissed, “You’re wondering if I see him in you, wondering if you’ve hurt me, or if you will hurt me. I don’t want that.”

“But…”

“No. If this is going to change everything, then you need to let me know right now because I can’t do it. I can’t live every day with you looking at me like… like _that_.” He wrapped his arms around his waist tightly, “I’m not breakable. He taught me what I shouldn’t stand for, and I’m not afraid to let you know if you’re doing something wrong.”

“I just don’t want to hurt you,” Ryan said softly.

“You won’t; you haven’t. You’re not him, Ryan.” Ray smiled softly and scooted a little bit closer, “You’re about as far from him as you can get. Where he drew me in with kindness and false security, you’ve been a gigantic dick from the start.” Ryan frowned and opened his mouth to protest, Ray stopped it with a soft kiss to his lips. “But you’ve got a good heart, and I trust you. I never really trusted him.”

Ryan pulled him close— _finally_ —and Ray melted into him. Into his warmth, and the comfort it brought him. “You’re not going to break me, okay?”

“Okay.” Ryan’s fingers found their way into his hair, and the soft petting was beyond soothing. “I get why you didn’t want Michael to know now. He’s probably going to want to kill me.”

“No…” Ray paused, “Okay, well that might be his first reaction, but he knows you. He knows that you care about me. I just have to talk to him.”

Ryan cupped his face gently, thumb brushing small circles on his cheek as they held eye contact. “Take tomorrow off, both of you. I’ll make sure Burnie knows. Talk to him, take as much time as you need, and I’ll see you on Monday.”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course,” Ryan leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his forehead, “I know I’ve been taking up most of your time, and I know you two miss each other even if neither of you would say so outright. Take the weekend, talk to him.”

Ray smiled brightly, kissing him sloppily, “You’re the best, y’know. Still an asshole, but you’re a _nice_ asshole.”

“That’s an oxymoron,” Ryan said, but the look in his eyes was one that made Ray feel like he was the most important person in the word.


	7. Changing Perspectives

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for this being late! School is kind of getting a bit crazy right now, but I'll do my best to stick to my Monday update schedule!

The shock on Michael’s face when Ray walked through the door of their apartment was painful. He expected for him to not show up, for him to spend the night with Ryan again. Ray hated that he’d let himself push his best friend away like that. Michael was quiet as he slipped off his shoes and sat next to him on the couch.

“You’re home awful early,” Michael quipped, “Not used to seeing you before six.”

“I’m sorry.”

“For what? It’s your life, you’re trying to further your career.”

Ray sighed, “Can we talk? Without fighting?”

“Sure.”

“I know you’re not stupid.” Ray said, “I know you know what’s going on, and that you’re probably pissed because I didn’t say anything, but do you blame me?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Seriously?” Ray asked, but he’d seen that look on Michael’s face before. He’d fucked up, and Michael wasn’t going to give him any leeway. “Fine. If you’re going to be like that, then _fine._ I’m sleeping with Ryan.”

Michael raised an eyebrow, but didn’t speak. “We were both high-strung and pissed off after Nationals, and it just sort of happened.”

“It just sort of happened last time, too.” The words hit hard, and Michael knew it. Ray could see the regret in his face almost immediately, but they both knew it was too late to take the words back.

“You know it’s not the same,” Ray said quietly, “You know Ryan isn’t like him.”

“Do I?” Michael stood up and paced the floor in front of Ray. “Do _you_?”

“Yeah, I do. I know what it was like back then, and it’s nothing like that now. Ryan is nothing like that. You _know_ him.”

“Up until now you stood by the fact that he’s a dick.”

“You’re a dick, too,” Ray pointed out, “Just because he can be an asshole doesn’t mean he doesn’t have a soft side, you know that better than anyone.”

“I don’t want to watch you get hurt again. I don’t think I could do it.”

“He’s not going to hurt me.”

“Have you told him yet?”

Ray nodded, “I told him tonight. Just before he drove me back here.”

“And?”

“And he wanted to beat the guy up as much as you did back then. Ryan’s a good guy, you know that.”

“So are you two…” Michael waved his hands around, looking for the right words but coming up short, “Is this just sex, or what?”

“I don’t know; I don’t think so.” Ray pulled the jacket around his shoulders tighter, “We haven’t really talked about it, but it doesn’t feel like it’s just sex anymore. I don’t know if it ever was.”

“Why didn’t you just tell me, Ray?”

Ray shrugged, “I don’t know. I didn’t want you to worry, I guess.”

“I’m always going to worry about you, idiot.” Michael sighed, sitting next to him again, “It’s what our relationship is: me worrying and you making stupid decisions.”

“Do you think this is a stupid decision?”

“Are you happy?” Ray nodded slowly, “Then no. Until you tell me you’re not happy, I think this was the best decision you’ve made in a while.”

“Seriously?”

“You don’t see how you look at him. Hell, how he fucking looks at you. It’s disgusting.” Michael joked, punching him lightly in the shoulder. “And Burnie and I are _offended_ that you two didn’t tell us because it was fucking obvious as could be.”

“It was not.”

“You guys fucked in the changing room.”

Ray felt himself go bright red, “What?”

“Oh c’mon, you aren’t even slightly subtle.”

“Oh my god.”

“Yeah, that’s what we said when we watched you two stumble out completely disheveled and giggly.”

“Oh my god,” Ray groaned, “Please stop.”

“Why? You’ve been making me watch you come home in Ryan’s clothes pretty much every day—does he even have any sweats left?—and you’ve got the most _obvious_ hickeys ever.”

“Okay I’m ending this conversation now.” Ray said quickly, “I’m going to kick your ass in _COD_ , and you’re going to reward me with delicious food tomorrow because guess who got you the day off?”

“Seriously?”

“Oh yeah, there’s benefits to this relationship.” Ray joked, grabbing one of the Xbox controllers from the table. It was really good to see Michael smiling again, no more questioning looks or disbelieving head shaking. All he had to do now was figure out what the fuck his and Ryan’s relationship actually was.

* * *

Ray hadn’t had a Saturday as lazy and relaxing as this one in a very long time. It was so awesome to be able to just sit and eat good (terribly unhealthy) food while playing video games with his best friend. It was like before they found Burnie and he got serious about skating again. It was like the months after Ray came clean to Michael when they just decided to be teenagers for a while.

It was great.

But Michael insisted that one day off was enough, and that he didn’t want to play his luck with Burnie despite Ray’s _insisting_ that Ryan said he’d deal with it.

But _no_ , Michael had to go to work. So Ray just went with him. (And damn if he didn’t spend the whole trip to the rink pouting) He normally didn’t like going on his days off because the absolute _last_ thing he wanted to do was end up on the ice straining his already sore muscles, and he couldn’t _not_ go on the ice if he was at the rink. But he’d had Saturday off, and when Michael pointed out that he was getting lazy, the competitive side of him flared up.

The parking lot was way more full than Ray was used to, and all questions were answered when they walked through the doors and were bombarded with screaming children. Everything in Ray froze in horror.

_CanSkate._

“Michael you son of a bitch.” He hissed as they hastily headed to the kitchen, “You _knew_ it was kids’ day, and you still let me come?”

“Watch your language.” Michael grinned, “This is payback for lying to my face.”

“I hate you.”

“I know.” He watched angrily as Michael moved around, setting up all his equipment and fiddling with various temperatures. It was so _loud_ , ten times louder than he was used to, and it was so fucking crowded.

The rare time that he managed to catch a CanSkate during the week it was quieter, and it would always be just before he left. That was _why_ he got up so goddamn early; so he could avoid this shit and get out by 5pm.

He watched from the safety of the kitchen—which Michael would no doubt be kicking him out of soon—as the children laced their skates. Already he could tell which ones would stick with it. While most of the group had their parents on their knees trying desperately to tie skates on their fidgeting child, there were a few who were lacing their own with practiced ease. They weren’t crying or complaining, but rather looking up at the ice in longing. They were the ones who’d still be here in six years when most of their peers had long since given up to go be ‘normal’.

“They’re so loud,” Ray stage-whispered to Michael, “How do you handle it?”

Michael just shrugged, “They’re kids.”

“Exactly,” Ray looked out at the crowd, “They’re _kids_.”

He turned away to gather his stuff in hopes of retreating to Burnie’s office when a familiar voice caught his attention. “Well hello students,” Ryan said, clear as day and chipper as could be, “How are we today?”

Ray peered over the counter from his crouched position and—yup, that was definitely Ryan. And the motherfucker was wearing skates. “What the fuck is he doing here?” He hissed at Michael, who lazily glanced in Ryan’s direction and shrugged.

“He always coaches CanSkate on Sunday’s ‘cause Burnie does paperwork.”

“ _What_?” Ray peered over the counter again, “And you never told me _because_ …?”

Again, Michael shrugged. Ray wanted to strangle him. “You were keeping your secrets, so I kept mine. Plus, Ryan asked me not to tell you.”

“Why not?”

“I dunno, why don’t you go ask him?”

“He can’t know I’m here,” Ray said firmly, flopping onto the ground with a light _thud_.

“You’re not spending the whole day sitting on my kitchen floor, you’re in my way.” Michael said, “I don’t see why you can’t just go talk to him.”

“He’s wearing _skates_. I didn’t even know he could skate anymore.”

“I mean, what he does out there is _barely_ skating. It’s more like standing… and gliding sort of.”

“Michael.” Ray said. “That isn’t the point. The point is that he’ll put on a pair of skates for a bunch of kids, yet he won’t even _touch_ them when I’m around.”

“I dunno, man. Don’t look at me like that, if you want to understand you’re going to have to ask him yourself.”

Ray sighed, but he pulled his skates from his bag regardless and promptly ignored the shit-eating grin on Michael’s face because he was a fucking _asshole_.

“Are they on the ice yet?” He asked as he finished lacing his skates. Michael nodded and Ray sighed, “He’s in so much shit.”

“Remember to watch your language,” Michael joked as Ray stood up and headed for the rink. He threw up a middle finger for good measure, and faced the glares of at least three moms for it. He waved at them sweetly, and removed his hard guards before stepping on the ice.

Ryan was at the other end, with his back to him as he talked to a small army of children. Who were all watching Ray as he skated in slow, quiet circles behind Ryan. One of the benefits to being light on his feet. He had to force himself not to laugh at the faces of awe he got as he glided into a simple Camel Spin. Ryan was still talking.

“Keeping centered on your blades is one of the most important things to remember when you skate,” He said. Ray stuck his tongue out and the kids giggled. “This is serious stuff. The basics help you improve substantially.”

Ray rolled his eyes. Guy needed to learn to use smaller words. Still, he’d always loved attention. So he centered his shoulders and quickly gained speed before launching into a triple axel. The kids immediately exploded into whispers, and the sharp sound of his blades cutting through the ice got Ryan’s attention. Within seconds of his landing, Ryan was in his face.

“What are you doing here?”

Ray shrugged, skating around him in a slow circle, “Michael refused to take today off, I was bored.”

“So disrupting my class seemed like the right thing to do?”

“I didn’t disrupt anything; I just blew some kids’ minds.” Ray skated closer, getting _right_ up in his face. “Maybe I would’ve behaved more if I knew that you _still fucking skated_ ,” He whispered, “But no, only children get the honor of seeing you with blades on.”

“Ray, not now.” Ryan sighed, but he wasn’t having any of it. He simply skated over to the group and placed his hands on his hips.

“So, who here wants to be a skater?” Over half of the hands flew up. A few eager people bounced with excitement. “And who knows what it takes to do that?”

One of the three boys put his hand up, Ray nodded at him to speak. When he did his voice was quiet, tentative. “It takes a lot of work. You’ve gotta skate for a long time every day and you’ve gotta be willing to give up a lot.”

“Right. Can anyone guess how old I was when I started skating?” Ray asked.

“Two?” A little girl asked.

“Close, but I wasn’t quite that young. I was four.” He skated back and forth in front of him. “As for Mr. Grumpy Face back there, does anyone know who he is?”

“That’s Coach Haywood,” One said from the back, “Duh.”

Ray rolled his eyes at Ryan. “Yes, this is _Coach_ Haywood, but does anyone know what he did before he was a coach?”

“Ray.” Ryan warned as the group shook their head.

“Ryan skated for the US Olympic team _twice_.” Ray said. “Isn’t that cool?” There were nods throughout the group. “Now he coaches you guys and _me_.”

“He coaches you?” One asked.

“Yup, he’s going to get me to the Olympics this year.”

“Woah!” Ray smiled at their awe. Ryan still didn’t look happy, however.

“Right, well that’s enough wasting time.” He said sternly, “It’s time for you all to skate. Go do five laps and watch you posture.”

As soon as they were off, Ryan turned to him with crossed arms and a frown. “What was that?”

“Payback.” Ray shrugged, “For skating with them but not with me.”

“Ray,” Ryan repeated for what felt like the hundredth time that day. “This isn’t exactly skating.”

“I don’t care. You’ll put on a pair of skates for a bunch of kids who couldn’t care less what’s on your feet, but you stand there in street shoes for every single training session we have. That’s messed up.”

“I didn’t think you cared.”

“Well, I do.”

“You’re being childish.” Ryan replied.

“Well you’re a fucking asshole.” Ray said, skating towards the exit to the rink. He didn’t realize he cared so much until that moment, and he didn’t even know _why_ it bugged him as much as it did, but he was annoyed. He was even _more_ annoyed that Ryan had the audacity to call him _childish._ He wasn’t childish. He stormed past Michael, who looked disappointed, past all the confused moms, and straight into Burnie’s office.

“Out.”

“No.”

Burnie sighed, “Look, I’m sure whatever has you pissed off is very important, but I’m supposed to be doing paperwork. This rink doesn’t just run itself.”

“Why didn’t you tell me Ryan coached on Sundays?”

“Why does it matter?” He asked without looking up from the papers on his desk. Ray was at a loss for words.

“I… I don’t know, it just does.”

“Ryan didn’t want us to tell you, so we didn’t.”

Ray frowned, “Why didn’t he want me to know?”

“That really doesn’t sound like my problem.” Ray sat down in the chair across from him, “Awe, no. Don’t sit down.”

“We’re fucking, you know.”

“Goddamnit Ray, _yes_ I know. Everyone knows.” Burnie motioned to the door behind them, “Now it was lovely talking to you…”

“Oh, I can’t go back down there.”

“What.”

Ray shook his head quickly, “I don’t wanna deal with Ryan.”

“Oh my god, stop being such a child.” Burnie sighed, “You’re all grown up, you can have grown up conversations.”

“I’m not a fucking child!” Ray hissed. “I just don’t understand why he wanted to keep it a secret.”

“Maybe this is why.”

“I mean, what the _fuck_?” Ray asked, feet swinging idly. He heard a _thump_ and turned to find Burnie’s head on his desk. “You were my first coach; I’m supposed to be able to talk to you about stuff.”

“If you’ve got a question actually related to your skating career I’m sure Ryan would be more than capable of answering it.” Burnie said, voice muffled by the papers he was currently face-planting onto. “Otherwise I suggest you take your annoying whining elsewhere.”

“Is this stupid?” Ray asked quietly. “I mean, we’re not exactly the best match, are we?”

Burnie sighed again and rubbed tiredly at the bridge of his nose. “Does it really matter what kind of ‘match’ you are? Are you happy?”

“I…” Ray stared at him, the last couple of weeks coming back in flashes. Every time he was with Ryan things were just… better. “I think so.”

“Then why don’t you stop getting in your own way and _go be happy_?”

* * *

 

Ray spent the rest of Ryan’s lesson laying low. He watched from the bleachers alongside the proud mothers and fathers, and found himself watching Ryan with the same fondness they held to their children. He looked happy. Whenever a kid did something right, Ryan beamed and Ray felt even worse for being… childish.

He couldn’t believe he let himself get jealous of _children_. Michael had been right; Ryan was barely even skating. He had no real reason to be upset at him, and he knew that he would have to make it right. So he watched silently from the bleachers and waited until every kid had stumbled their way off the ice before once again stepping onto the familiar surface.

Ryan stood at center ice, waiting knowingly as Ray glided to a stop in front of him. “I’m sorry.”

“I don’t understand what even happened out there, Ray. Why did you do all that?”

“I don’t…” Ray shook his head, “I was shocked and angry and I let that get the best of me. Ever since you started coaching me I’d wondered why you wouldn’t wear skates. Then you opened up to me and I thought I understood; I thought you just didn’t skate anymore. Then I came here and found you laced up for a bunch of six to ten year olds and it stung.”

“Why?’

“Because you won’t skate with me.” Ray said quietly, skating in small circles around him just to avoid his eyes. “After everything you won’t skate with me even though you know it’s important to me. To both of us.”

“Ray.” Ryan grabbed his hand, pulling him to a stop and gently cupping his cheek. “What I do here… this isn’t skating. This is standing around. I wear skates because I don’t want the kids asking questions—or the parents. But to skate with you? Ray you know just as well as I do that for us to skate together would be for us to _really_ skate, and I don’t know if I’m ready for that.”

“But…”

Ryan pressed a kiss to his forehead, “I’m not saying I won’t ever be ready. I _want_ to skate with you, trust me when I say there isn’t anything I’d want more. I just…” He shook his head, squeezing Ray’s hand tighter within his own. “I haven’t skated like that since my injury. I never got back out there.”

“It’s just like riding a bike, you know that. You just have to take the leap, everything will come back.”

“I know.”

“But I’m not going to force you,” Ray pushed himself onto his toe picks so he could press a kiss to Ryan’s cheek. “Like I said, I’m sorry I was childish.”

“Apology accepted. I actually think your little show helped inspire them.”

“So what I’m hearing is I should start coming every Sunday.” Ryan laughed as they moved towards the exit. Even skating together in the simplest sense felt nice.

“Hmm, maybe not. I think you might’ve angered the mothers.”

“Damn, I thought they liked me.”

Ryan chuckled pressed another kiss to the top of his head, “I like that we don’t have to hide anymore.”

“Me too.” Ray said, swinging their still joined hands as they walked towards Michael. “I hate hiding things.”

“Ugh, as if you actually _hid_ anything.” Michael groaned, “You guys are so gross a child could figure out you’re sleeping together.”

“Well, now that everyone knows I think we should go for dinner.” Ray looked at Ryan like he’d grown a third eye, as did Michael.

“What?”

“I know I’ve been taking a lot of Ray’s time as of late. I’d like to spend some time with you, too.” Ryan smiled, “Oh, and Burnie. Only because I know he won’t eat if someone doesn’t make him tonight.”

“Uh…” Michael nodded slowly, “Sure. I mean, why not.”

“Great. I’ll make a reservation at the Cactus Club for around seven?” Ryan asked. Michael nodded, and Ryan smiled. He pressed a kiss to Ray’s cheek before heading off to tell Burnie.

“He’s different.”

“Yeah.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen him smile that much.”

Ray snorted, “I mean, I have. But I’ve also gotten pretty personal with his dick.”

Michael cringed, “Oh god, no. No, no, no. New friendship rule: I don’t want to hear _anything_ about Ryan’s dick. Ever.”

“Okay, okay. No mention of dicks.” Ray smiled, “I’m going to go get some practice in since we’re here. Depending on what Ryan’s doing, we might go to his place before dinner.”

Michael nodded, “Just let me know if you head out.”

Ray headed back to the rink, watching as Jeremy finished up on the Zamboni. The fresh ice was just as tempting and exciting as it had been when he was little. He stepped on as soon as the Zamboni left, and he could feel Jeremy’s annoyance at the fact that Ray was about to mess up his fresh ice.

Since it was Sunday, he didn’t push himself. He ran through his routine a couple of times, but he spent more time just skating to the music Burnie was playing over the speakers. For the first time in a very long time he felt so fucking _happy_. There were no more secrets, no more hiding from Michael and stressing them both out.

And Ryan. Ray still didn’t know exactly what they were, but it sure as hell felt like they were dating. Which caused a flutter of butterflies in his stomach. He couldn’t believe everything was going as right as it was. Ryan knew his secrets and still wanted to be with him, he was going to World’s, and hell if Ray wasn’t damn confident he could get to the Olympics. His mindset was so vastly different from Nationals. So much had changed, and somewhere along the way his confidence came back.

“That doesn’t look like your routine,” Ray heard from behind him. He turned to face Ryan with a smile.

“It’s my day off.”

“Hm, if I recall you already had one of those this weekend.”

“Hey, I shouldn’t even be here today,” Ray pointed out, “At least I’m skating.”

“Starting Monday you’re back at full pace,” Ryan said, “World’s is coming up pretty quick and I want to make sure you feel ready.”

“Awe, man. And here I thought you were starting to soften up.”

“Never. I’m going to work you to the bone, Narvaez.”

Ray glided to a stop in front of him, “Good. I told you, Rye; I’m serious about getting to the Olympics this year. It’s my last shot, I’m not going to blow it.”

“I know you’re not.”

“However… since it was your idea to go out for dinner tonight…”

“You can eat healthy.”

“Oh, c’mon. This is the Last Supper.” Ray fell against him dramatically, “Let me enjoy my last meal as a free man.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“You love it.” Ray joked, but Ryan’s grip on his arm tightened. His expression got harder, more serious than their conversation deserved. Ray’s words sunk in, the weight of them sitting heavy on his throat.

Ryan pulled him closer, resting their foreheads together gently, “I do.”

* * *

Ryan refused to let Ray come home with him, insisting that he should stay and keep Michael company instead of annoying the hell out of him in the hours before they left. Michael disagreed, insisting he’d be okay without Ray’s company, but Ryan was unconvinced. He kissed Ray’s forehead and told him to ‘dress nice’.

Michael’s job was boring when the rink wasn’t busy, but when the public skate rolled around at three, everything got crazy again and Ray ended up getting pulled into the kitchen to help as swarms of impatient children and their parents ordered way too much food to be justified at the rink.

It was 5:30 before Ray and Michael managed to get everything cleaned up and they were able to leave, meaning there wasn’t a lot of time for them to both shower and get changed into something slightly fancier than jeans and a T-shirt. They ended up showing up at the restaurant ten minutes late. Burnie was looking impatient, as always, but Ryan didn’t seem surprised in the slightest.

“How do you manage to show up late to _everything_?” Burnie asked, “I left at the same time as you two.”

“We have one shower,” Michael pointed out dryly, “May I remind you of the shithole we live in?”

“Hey, I like our shithole. It’s home.”

“Yeah, well, I’d like to not have to share a shower with you.”

“You haven’t been,” Burnie pointed out, “He’s been too busy sharing Ryan’s.”

Ray could feel his face go red, and he tried desperately to hide behind his menu. “So how’s the rink doing? Get all your paperwork done?”

“Oh no. No, no.” Burnie chuckled and it sent a shiver down Ray’s spine, “You barged your way into my office wanting to talk today, so we will talk.”

“There’s nothing to talk about, really. Ryan and I are sleeping together, and now you two both know.” Ray cleared his throat, “End of story, let’s move on.”

Burnie looked like he was going to argue, but by some miracle their waitress decided to show up at that exact moment to take their order. Ray felt Ryan’s hand on his knee, a gentle reassurance that it’d be alright. Ray was going to order the biggest, greasiest burger he could get his hands on as payback for this absolutely terrible idea.

He could feel Ryan’s disapproval as he ordered. “And what would you like for your side?”

“I’ll have a salad, no dressing.” He said sweetly, turning to face Ryan with the biggest shit-eating grin he could muster.

“Starting tomorrow, I’ll eat what you want me to.”

“Yeah, well, starting tomorrow you’re going to wish you weren’t such a smart ass today.”

Dinner was surprisingly not awkward. At least, not nearly as much as Ray was dreading. Burnie and Michael kept their jokes to a minimum, usually only when prompted by a comment Ray or Ryan made, and knowing that they finally both _knew_ made the air far less tense than he was used to. It did, however, make Ray realize just how little time he’d spent with Burnie and Michael since he’d started sleeping with Ryan.

Apparently Burnie had started seeing someone, and Michael was interested in one of the baristas from his favorite coffee shop downtown. The information was like a slap in the face. His two best friends, and he hadn’t even paid enough attention to realize that they might have someone in their lives, too.

At the end of the night, he tried to go home with Michael. “No, you’re not getting in this car,” He had said, “I have heard enough about Ryan, I don’t need you complaining about it tonight, too.”

“I wouldn’t.”

“Ray, go spend the night with your boyfriend. Figure out if he even _is_ your boyfriend.”

Ray had never been one to argue with Michael, so go he did.

* * *

“I think that went well, considering,” Ray said, falling heavily onto Ryan’s couch. “I mean; it probably could’ve gone worse.”

“Did you not have a good time?”

“I did. I just… didn’t realize I’d missed so much of what was going on in everyone’s lives.”

“That’s partially my fault, too.” Ryan said, sitting down next to him and pulling him close. “I’ve been taking all of your time.”

“Speaking of that,” Ray ran a hand through Ryan’s hair, “I don’t know a way to ask this without sounding like a kid, but what are we? What is _this_?”

“What do you want it to be?”

“I…” Ray could feel the blush rising on his cheeks, “I want to be with you.”

“Good,” Ryan smiled, “Because I wasn’t about to let you go.”

“I was supposed to hate you,” Ray chuckled, joining their hands together, “You were everything I thought I hated about the skating world, and you ended up being everything I love about it.”

“What can I say, I’m a man of surprises. Then again, so are you.” He brought Ray’s hand to his lips, “You were supposed to be a brat. Burnie thought I would try and quit after a week.”

“I _was_ a brat. You helped change that.”

“I don’t think you were. I think you were self-destructive. If anything, I just helped you realize what you can do.”

“So does this mean we’re boyfriends?” Ray teased, “Do I get to brag to all my friends that I’m dating _the_ Ryan Haywood?”

“What friends? Michael and Burnie already know.”

“Oh, ouch. That actually hurt.”

“Hm, I think I can think of a way to make it up to you.” Ryan said, his voice deep and husky. He moved forward slowly, building the anticipation as he pressed their lips together. Ray’s hands found their way back into his hair, tugging him closer. Ryan pulled away to kiss a trail down his neck, leaving Ray panting as he sucked a hickey onto his throat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not as happy with this chapter as I would like, so apologies for that as well as the lateness. The next couple of chapters, however, I am very excited for and I hope you guys are too. :)


	8. Let's Get Down to Business

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m so sorry for the incredibly long wait on this, guys. I know I said I’d upload every Monday, but school got crazy. Hopefully you can forgive me, and I’ll do my best to get another chapter up in a week at the latest. Hopefully sooner. Thanks for all the support. <3

Ryan wasn’t kidding when he said that training would be getting serious starting Monday. Instead of the nice, warm cuddling Ray had gotten used to in the mornings, he was rudely awoken at 4:45am with bright lights and running shoes thrown at his chest. “Get up, get ready. It’s time for your morning run,” Ryan said sweetly.

Their run wasn’t what Ray was expecting. It was _hard_ , and Ryan pushed him impossibly _harder_. By the time they stumbled back into Ryan’s house, Ray felt like he was going to die. Ryan went to go make breakfast, and Ray just crumpled in a heap onto the floor. “Ryan _why_?” He groaned.

“Like I said this weekend; it’s crunch time. We’ve got to really focus on your training if you want to qualify.”

“I know, I know.”

“Good, then stop complaining and come eat.”

Breakfast was… not what Ray was used to. It was healthy, which he was expecting, but it wasn’t as _good_ he was used to. Michael’s healthy food actually tasted like normal food. This tasted like… green. He pouted at Ryan all through breakfast, and while they got ready to go to the rink. He either didn’t notice, or didn’t care.

“Since when does pouting not work on you?” Ray asked as they climbed into the car, “You’re supposed to melt under my adorable gaze.”

“Hm, I never got that memo.”

They got to the rink before even Burnie, which was a first for Ray. They walked into the dark rink together, and the silence kind of took Ray’s breath away. He moved towards the ice, the path familiar even in the dark, while Ryan went to turn on the lights.

Ray watched as the their flickered on, their brightness growing as they warmed and illuminated the smooth ice on the rink. His heart fluttered at the sight. Fresh, empty ice was just as exciting and tempting as it had always been. The soreness of his muscles was forgotten, replaced with the need to feel his blades carving patterns into the untouched surface.

He laced his skates quickly, glad that Ryan had made him stretch on their run. He pulled on his gloves and stepped onto the ice, gliding forward and taking in a deep breath. He rolled his shoulders back, pivoting backwards and forwards, getting a feel for the ice beneath his feet as he’d been doing since he’d first learned to skate.

Ray could feel Ryan’s eyes on him, watching as he warmed up his muscles with easy spins and double jumps. It was nothing impressive, but it got Ray’s heart beating faster.

“You look good out there,” Ryan called after a while, “That’s what sets you apart from a lot of your competition.”

“What, my fantastic ass?” Ray asked as he skated closer.

“No, your passion for skating,” He said. “But I’m sure your ass helps, too.”

“Well, if it weren’t for you I probably would’ve given up a long time ago,” Ray said. “Every time I’ve gotten close to quitting you’ve been there to kick me in the ass and keep me on track.”

“Like I’ve said time and time again, you’ve got a raw talent and a passion that not everyone has. I couldn’t just watch that get ripped away from you,” Ryan stepped onto the ice, revealing a pair of skates. “I see parts of my career in yours, but there’s no way in hell that I’m letting what happened to me happen to you.”

“You’re wearing skates,” Ray smiled, “Like, actual skates.”

“Yeah, well. It’s more comfortable than street shoes.”

“I just… didn’t think I’d see you in skates anytime soon.”

Ryan smiled, “As long as it’s not going to serve as a distraction I can’t see a problem with it. You were right on Sunday—It isn’t fair of me to put on skates for kids but not for you.”

“Rye,” Ray shook his head, “I really didn’t mean that. I mean, I did… but I also get why you did it, y’know? I don’t expect you to wear skates with me.”

“Well I want to, end of conversation,” He kissed the top of Ray’s head. “Now how about we actually work on your program?”

* * *

By lunch Ray felt exhausted. He was nowhere near ready for four hours of off-ice training, even if he got a delicious Michael-made meal beforehand. Ray hadn’t done the same jump so many times since he first started mastering his quad—which Ryan was now saying needed improvement. Michael and Burnie, however, were loving it.

“He was going way too easy on you,” Burnie said as Ray plopped onto a stool with a groan. “You two were all lovey-dovey and too busy doing completely inappropriate things in my changing rooms to actually practice.”

“We agreed to never talk about that again.”

“No, _you_ told me to never talk about it again. _I_ told you I was never letting it go.”

Ray groaned again, “Everything hurts already and we’re not even half way through.”

“That’s not true, you’re _over_ half way done.” Michael said, placing a plate with _way_ too much green on it in front of him.

“Ugh, it doesn’t feel like it. I’m basically re-learning how to do a portion of my routine because _someone_ doesn’t think it’s good enough.” He grumbled, stabbing angrily at his salad with a fork.

“He just wants to see you succeed, you know that,” Burnie said. “Plus you’re a little shit almost always, this is his time to get back at you.”

“Yeah, well, we’ll see how much he enjoys his revenge when I’m too exhausted to move at night, never mind anything else.”

“Oh, withholding sex?” Burnie asked. “Didn’t think you had it in you, kid.”

“He doesn’t,” Michael said from the kitchen. Ray could feel his cheeks flush.

* * *

He was half tempted to go back to his apartment out of spite. Because it was day one and he already hurt. Maybe there was even a small hope that he would get to sleep in, though Ray was almost positive Ryan would still show up at the apartment to make sure he did a grueling morning run. Plus, Ryan had a really nice shower that actually got _hot_ , unlike his and Michael’s.

Though his decision to go home with Ryan in no way meant that he wouldn’t complain. In fact, he made sure to complain _more_ than usual during their car ride home. Because Ryan had to know just how sore and tired he was.

“You almost finished?” Ryan asked as they pulled into his driveway.

“I don’t know; do you pity me yet?”

“Not really.”

“Then no, not really.”

Ryan chuckled, leaning over the center console so he could press a kiss to Ray’s forehead. “If it makes you feel any better, I can already see the improvement in your jumps.”

“It doesn’t, I hurt _everywhere_.”

“I know, but it’ll be worth it when we get to World’s and you kick everyone’s ass,” Ray watched as he climbed out of the car, unable to hide the small smile that danced across his lips at the thought of actually doing _well_ at World’s.

He followed Ryan inside, letting his skating bag fall in a heap at the door. Ryan threw a disappointed look Ray’s way, but said nothing. Even he knew better then to nag as Ray bee lined for the shower. It felt amazing to stand under the warm spray of the showerhead—which had considerably better water pressure than his. Ray let his head fall back, let his muscles relax completely as he stood and let the warmth wash over him.

He knew what they were doing was helping. Ryan was right—even Ray could tell his jumps were getting better. Getting closer to perfect, and closer to Anders’ level. Ray knew that all the training was going to pay off, and he was glad that Ryan was his coach. He was glad that Ryan was _more_ than his coach. Because he knew that Ryan would always care for him. Ray knew that no matter how hard Ryan pushed him, he would always be there to rub his sore muscles at night, and cook him good food, and hold him close until he fell asleep. As far as coaches went, Ray was damn lucky.

When he rejoined Ryan, there were steaming plates of food ready that smelled absolutely divine. Ryan was facing away from him at the sink, so Ray took the opportunity to sneak up behind him and wrap his arms around Ryan’s middle. He rested his cheek against Ryan’s back, feeling the heat radiating from him.

“Well hello,” Ryan said softly, “how was your shower?”

“Good.”

“Feeling less cranky?”

Ray nodded, knowing Ryan could feel the movement against his back. Ray felt him chuckle quietly, then the water was being turned off and Ryan was twisting in Ray’s arms so he could wrap his own arms tightly around his shoulders. Ryan pressed a kiss to the top of his head, “Let’s eat.”

Dinner was unsurprisingly delicious. They spent most of the meal discussing improvements that still had to be made to Ray’s programs, and bickering about song choice. Ray won in the end, as usual. Ryan knew that the music would resonate with the audience, and compliment Ray’s style of skating beautifully. He was just worried about having a lyrical piece in the competition. It was allowed, but rarely done.

“Isn’t that a good thing?” Ray asked. “Don’t I want to set myself apart from the rest of the skaters?”

“Yeah, of course,” Ryan smiled, “I just know that the judges get even pickier when skaters choose lyrical music. They analyze everything.”

“Do you think I’ll still do well if they do?”

Ryan nodded, “I do. I think that if you really want to use this music, that passion is going to show. You’re an emotional skater, if this will benefit anyone it’ll be you.”

* * *

By the end of the week, Ray felt about ready to die. He hadn’t been so exhausted since Ryan’s first week coaching him. By the time they _finally_ rolled into Ryan’s driveway on Saturday night, he wasn’t even sure he could pluck up the effort to move from the car to the couch. Ryan patted his knee gently, but his attempt to comfort was foiled by the giant fucking bruise that he’d acquired on Thursday.

He could barely keep his eyes open as Ryan rubbed his sore muscles on the couch. Ray tried to pay attention to what Ryan was saying, he really did. His brain just wasn’t cooperating with him. He numbly noticed Ryan standing up, and kissing the top of his head, but he couldn’t bring himself to move. Instead, Ray let his head nod forward and his eyes close.

“Ray,” Ryan’s voice startled him awake, “C’mere, love.”

Ryan pulled him into his arms with surprising ease. Ray’s arms instinctively wrapped around his neck, and he nuzzled his face into Ryan’s neck. He expected to be plopped gently on the bed, not placed on a cold bathroom countertop. “I’m tired,” He complained.

“A nice hot bath will help sooth your muscles,” Ryan said simply. Ray looked around the bathroom for the first time, and noticed quite a few candles and a full bath that smelled like flowers. He smiled at Ryan and pulled him closer to press a kiss to his lips. Ryan’s hands moved to the hem of his shirt, inching it up Ray’s torso and over his head. He pressed kisses to the exposed skin while his hands worked on sliding off Ray’s pants and boxers.

The water was perfect, and warm, and bubbly. He let out a happy sigh, closing his eyes and breathing in the pleasant aroma. A few seconds later, he felt Ryan’s hands gently nudging him forward so he could climb in behind Ray. It felt nice to just relax against Ryan, to feel his chest rise and fall against Ray’s back. He let his head fall against Ryan’s shoulder.

“I’m proud of you,” Ryan said quietly, “You’re working harder than anyone else I’ve known, and I’m proud of what you’ve accomplished so far. Even with all the complaining.”

“Do you think I can do this?” Ray asked. “I mean, I know you say you believe in my all the time, but I need you to be completely honest with me. Do you really think I have a shot at the Olympics?”

Ryan pressed a kiss to his shoulder, “I would never lie to you, Ray. You have more potential than I’ve seen in a long time. You have more passion than anyone I’ve seen on the circuit. You can do this.”

“But I’m not like Anders. I don’t win every competition I go to; hell, I don’t always place at competitions. I still get nervous; I still choke…”

“Anders has talent. I won’t deny that, but he also doesn’t have anything _special_. He does the jumps and spins by the book, he smiles when he’s supposed to. But he doesn’t awe anyone. If you would just realize how good you are, you would kick his ass every time.”

“I just…” Ray sighed, “I’m scared I’m going to make it to World’s and completely blow it again.”

“You won’t,” Ryan ran a hand through his hair, kissing his forehead. “Burnie wants to hold an open competition in hopes of getting some new sponsors for the rink. I want you to compete.”

“Another competition? This close to World’s?”

“You can use the same routine, and it will help you realize how great you are. It’ll be good for you.”

“I dunno, Rye…”

“Trust me, Ray. This will be good for you.” Ray sighed, but he trusted Ryan. So he nodded and ignored the sickening feeling in his gut.

* * *

Ryan cooked dinner while Ray got dressed and rolled his sore muscles. It was considerably better than what he was expecting, especially after the week’s bland but healthy crap. “What’s with the sudden niceness?” He asked suspiciously. “First a beautiful, romantic bath, then a delicious meal?”

“What is that supposed to mean? I’m always nice!”

“You’ve been kicking my ass all week.”

“Maybe, but I’ve been doing so _nicely_ ,” Ryan argued. Ray supposed he was right, no matter how annoyingly difficult training was, Ryan was always gentle and kind. “Plus, it’s our day off now, you’re supposed to be relaxing.”

“Is this your way of asking for sex?”

“No.”

“Because I know it’s been a while but I’ve been really, really tired.”

“Ray.”

“I just didn’t want to put _more_ strain on my muscles,” Ray said quietly.

“Ray,” Ryan said firmly, grabbing his hand firmly. “This isn’t me asking for sex. This is me trying to make sure my boyfriend is happy and relaxed because I know how fucking hard he’s been working.”

Ray felt himself flush, “I’m sorry.”

“I’m not him,” Ryan said quietly. “I don’t just… expect sex. I would never force you into sex, I’d never _con_ you into it either. Okay?”

“I know. I’m sorry,” Ray repeated.

“Don’t apologize. You never have to apologize to me for that.” Ryan tugged him up gently, pulling him over to sit on the couch. He wrapped his arms around Ray, pressing gentle kisses to his cheek. Ray could feel himself dozing off in Ryan’s arms, but despite his efforts he couldn’t force himself to stay awake.

He was partially aware of Ryan lifting him up and carrying him bridal-style to the bedroom, but his eyelids felt like they were being weighed down. The mattress was like heaven beneath him, as was the warmth of the blankets that Ryan pulled to his chin. There was a moment’s pause before Ray felt the bed dip next to him. Ray curled into him, nuzzling happily against Ryan’s chest as his arms wrapped tightly around Ray’s shoulders.

Ray hadn’t felt so happy and content in… forever. In a sleepy haze, he muttered the three words he’d been terrified of saying. “I love you.”

He wasn’t awake long enough to know if Ryan said it back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this is a shorter chapter than usual, but every time I tried to add to it I kept hitting the same block. Which is part of the reason it's so late. Again, I'm hoping to have another chapter up by next week at the very latest, though I'm hoping to get one up before Monday. Thanks for the patience everyone!
> 
> Next chapter is going to be a big one. ;)


	9. What Have You Done?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Terribly sorry for the long wait, life got kind of tough. Thanks to everyone who's stuck around.

Of all the things that could happen at a competition, this had been the last one Ryan was expecting. He could feel all his muscles tense and freeze as he watched Ray talk to one of his competitors. Smiling, giggling, _flirting_ with him like Ryan was absolutely nothing to him. He didn’t know what he expected, what he thought was going to happen. He didn’t know why he thought Ray would stay with him, that he thought their relationship to be as important and amazing as Ryan did. He should’ve _known_ that Ray would find someone better. Someone younger, who was still prominent in the skating community. He should’ve _known_ it wasn’t going to last, but he had gone blindly forward anyway.

Ryan wanted nothing more than to leave. To abandon Ray in hopes that he’d feel slightly as bad as Ryan did now. But he had made a promise to Burnie. He promised he’d get Ray to the Olympics, promised he’d bring out Ray’s potential. So he stayed. He continued to watch as Ray blushed and giggled and flirted with the competition and forced himself to keep his distance.

When the five-minute call was announced, Ryan stomped forward. He grabbed Ray’s arm roughly and dragged him away. “Hey, ow,” Ray tugged his arm out of Ryan’s grip, “What the hell?”

“You were supposed to be stretching.”

“It’s a local competition, Ryan.”

Ryan laughed, “Right, so it’s not important. Do I need to remind you about your _last_ performance? You need all the practice you can get.”

“Wow, okay. Fuck you, too.” Ray grumbled, “What got your fucking panties in a twist?”

“I have worked my ass off to get you to this point, Ray. The least you could do is show a little respect and take this shit seriously.”

“And I _haven’t_ worked my ass off?”

“With more complaining than anyone else I’ve heard, yes.”

“God, what the fuck is _with_ you all of the sudden?” Ray asked, tugging his skates on roughly, “Where is all this hostility coming from?”

“Nowhere, I’m fine. It’s fine.” Ryan said. “Just… go warm up.”

* * *

Ray took first place in the competition. Ryan knew he would, he only put him in there so Burnie would have a big name competitor and Ray could gain some confidence. It was supposed to be a good moment, a happy day. But everything was tainted with the disgust Ryan was feeling knowing that Ray would so easily be drawn away from him by a pretty, young face.

The kid was all over Ray after the competition. He hugged him tightly and kissed his cheek, and congratulated him on the win with the biggest, most disgusting smile that Ray easily returned. Ryan’s hands formed fists and his vision blurred red with anger. They were _happy_. Ray said he fucking _loved_ him, this wasn’t supposed to happen.

It took everything he had to not storm over there and wring the kid’s fucking neck. Instead, he walked over and practically hissed in Ray’s ear, “It’s time to go, get your stuff.”

“What? I literally just got my medal,” Ray said.

“I don’t care, let’s go,” He walked away, trying to ignore the quiet apologies Ray was whispering behind him.

Ryan ignored Ray’s questioning gaze when he dropped him off at his apartment without asking. He ignored his fucking smile, bright as ever and made bigger by the medal around his neck, and probably the dumb kid that caught his attention. He turned away from Ray’s kiss, and ignored his confusion as he stepped out of the car.

By the time Ray was safely in his apartment, Ryan was almost vibrating with anger. He kept seeing them in his mind, seeing Ray all flirty and cute with someone else. He didn’t even have any fucking shame! For the first time in a long time, Ryan wanted nothing more than to just go and get a drink.

By the time he got to the bar, his anger had grown to the point of no return. He was practically vibrating as he stormed over to the empty bar and waited impatiently to be noticed by the bartender.

“What can I get for ya?”

“Anything strong.”

“Rough day?” He asked, placing a coaster and a glass in front of Ryan before filling it with a dark liquid. Ryan chugged it down, ignoring the burn it left in as it slid down his throat.

“You could say that, yeah.”

“Oh-kay then. I’ll make sure to keep them coming.” He said, filling the glass again. Ryan nodded glumly, glad the man was smart enough to not ask questions.

He didn’t chug back the second drink nearly as quickly as the first. It’d been a long-ass time since he’d had any alcohol and he was already starting to feel it numbing his mind and warming his insides. When the bartender filled his glass for the third time, Ryan turned to survey the room.

There were a few giggling women in one corner, some barely legal kids, and some depressed and haggard looking men that Ryan was sure he fit in with just fine. He cringed at the thought and finished off his drink.

His eyes slowly moved back to the kids. Most of them seemed like the jocks that Ryan despised in high school. The football kids. But in the midst of them all was a small, dark haired kid with a coy smile. He didn’t fit in at all, but maybe he was someone’s little brother. Ryan didn’t notice he was staring until the kid met his eyes. His smile grew and darkened. He leaned over to say something into one of the guy’s ears without ever taking his eyes off Ryan, and then he was moving in Ryan’s direction.

“Hey,” He said, sliding onto the stool next to him. “Couldn’t help but notice you were staring. Like what you see?”

“Well aren’t you forward.”

The kid shrugged, “I just know sexual attraction when I feel it.”

“Oh?”

“C’mon, old man. The last time someone looked at me like that, their dick was in my mouth.”

Ryan smiled. The kid was definitely confident. He knew he had something to flaunt, so flaunt it he did. It would be fun to put him in his place and show him just who was in charge of the situation. “You’re awfully confident for a kid. How do you know it was _you_ my eyes were on? Over-confident twink isn’t really my type.”

“Oh, but obviously straight jocks are?”

Ryan shrugged, “I like a challenge.”

“I think you just like being difficult,” He stepped closer, his hands finding their way to Ryan’s thighs so he could spread them enough to squeeze in between. “That’s okay, though. I like challenges, too.”

Ryan grabbed him roughly, pulling him forward and crashing their lips together. He tugged roughly on his hair, trying to ignore how different it felt—how different all of it felt. He didn’t melt into Ryan like Ray did. He fought back; pushed forward until his tongue was fighting with Ryan’s for dominance. He pressed himself closer and closer, until there was barely any room between them.

When the kid finally pulled away, they were both panting. “So,” He breathed into Ryan’s ear, “Are you going to take me home?”

“No,” Ryan growled. He pushed the kid off him, grabbing his hand roughly and tugging him towards the bathroom. Once inside, he shoved the kid back against the wall. He didn’t waste any time in pressing their lips together again. The kid didn’t moan like Ray. He wasn’t loud, he didn’t beg for more. He didn’t make Ryan’s heart flutter happily in his chest.

Before he could react, the kid pushed back, overpowering him enough to switch their positions. His hand found its way down to Ryan’s crotch pretty quickly, while his mouth moved to suck at his chest. Ryan groaned, letting his eyes droop shut. Images of Ray flashed behind his closed eyes, but he forced himself to press them down. To forget about him. To forget about what they _had_ and remember what Ray _did_.

When the kid dropped to his knees, Ryan didn’t protest. He let himself succumb to the sensations. It was obvious this wasn’t the kid’s first blowjob, and fuck if it didn’t feel good.

* * *

Ray hated fighting with the people he cared about. Even when he had no idea what they were fighting about. He hadn’t seen Ryan since he had dropped Ray off at his apartment after the competition. He hadn’t spoken a word to him aside from “thanks for the ride” since he’d gotten on the ice for his long program. Suffice to say, he missed Ryan. He missed his smile, and his laugh, and his touch. He hated fighting with the people he cared about, so he asked Michael to drive him over to Ryan’s place.

“Ray?” Ryan asked groggily when he opened the door, “What are you doing here?”

“I don’t like fighting with you.”

“I…”

“I don’t really understand what I did, but clearly I did something. So I’m sorry.”

Ryan sighed, “Don’t apologize. It wasn’t your fault, I just… I overreacted.”

“Can I come in?” Ray asked quietly.

Ryan stepped aside, motioning him into the home with a sense of hesitance Ray hadn’t seen since the first time he’d shown up. They moved into Ryan’s living room, but when they sat down Ryan kept his distance. “I don’t like fighting,” Ray repeated, “I don’t want to fight anymore.”

“Me neither.”

Ray smiled, moving closer. He pressed his lips against Ryan’s, softly at first as he waited to gage his response. Almost instantly, Ryan’s hands found their way onto his hips, pulling him closer. Ray smiled, pulling away and moving down Ryan’s neck. He pulled the hem of his T-shirt down, and felt his heart stop. Everything felt cold and dead as he stared at Ryan’s neck. As he stared at the six or seven hickies that marked the skin there.

“Ray?”

He squirmed out of Ryan’s grip, moving backwards and putting as much space between them as the couch would allow. He could feel the tightness in his throat, the tears stinging in the back of his eyes. He didn’t want to cry; he didn’t want to show Ryan that he was hurt.

“Ray…” Ryan repeated. He tried to move closer, but Ray threw his hands up.

“No!” He shouted, “No, stay away from me.”

“Let me explain, please.”

“How long?” Ray asked.

“What?”

“How long have you been _fucking_ someone else?” He demanded.

“I made a mistake. I made one, huge and stupid mistake.”

Ray shook his head quickly, “I can’t… I can’t believe you.”

“I’m sorry,” Ryan breathed, “Ray, I’m so sorry. But please let me explain.”

“No.” Ray pulled his jacket on quickly, followed by his shoes, “I can’t even look at you.”

“I’m sorry,” Ryan repeated.

“Don’t talk to me. I don’t want to hear your voice right now.” He pulled open Ryan’s front door. “I trusted you, I thought I _meant_ something to you. Obviously I was wrong. Obviously you haven’t changed.”

“I have!” He moved closer, but Ray stepped back. “Please, don’t go.”

“Get away from me.” Ray said sternly, and walked out Ryan’s front door. He knew Ryan would try and follow him, so he broke into a sprint. Running faster, and faster, trying desperately to get away from his voice and his meaningless apologies.

* * *

When he finally got back to his and Michael’s apartment he was out of breath and covered in sweat and tears. Michael’s expression darkened almost immediately when he looked over at Ray. “What the fuck happened?” Michael asked.

Ray slid down their door, letting himself break down as his head dropped onto his knees. “I thought I meant something to him, Michael.”

“What. The fuck. Happened.” Michael repeated.

“He cheated on me.”

“What? Are you sure?”

Ray nodded, a sob escaping his lips, “He had hickies all over his neck.”

“That motherfucker,” Michael growled. “Ray get the fuck out of the way, I’m going to go cut his fucking dick off.”

“No, Michael,” Ray grabbed his hand, tugging him down so he was sitting next to him. “Please, I just… I need you here right now.”

“Okay,” Michael took a deep breath, pulling Ray close. “Okay.”

“I feel like everything is falling to pieces around me.”

“I’m sorry, Ray,” Michael said quietly, gently petting Ray’s messy hair down against his head, “I thought he was different. We all did.”

“Why does this always happen to me? Why can’t I ever just be in a happy relationship?” Ray sighed.

“I don’t know.”

“Don’t I deserve someone to make me happy?”

“Yes,” Michael said firmly. “Of course you do. You deserve the sun, the stars, and everything in between. You know that.”

“What would I do without you?” Ray asked quietly, letting his head fall onto Michael’s shoulder. “I keep walking into these stupid relationships and you’re always there when they break me. You’re always there to pick up all the pieces and put me back together.”

“I’m your best friend, Ray. I’m always going to be here for you.”

Ray tried to take deep breaths, to calm himself down. He tried to stop thinking about Ryan, about the mystery person who got to touch him and hold him in a way that Ray thought only he could. He wished he would’ve listened to Michael when he and Burnie voiced concerns. He wished he would’ve learned from the past and not gotten involved with his coach. But he did, because he was an idiot, and now Ray just wished he could curl up and sleep for the rest of the year.

Michael didn’t say much; he knew that Ray just needed him close. He’d known Ray long enough to know that the absolutely last thing he would want to do is talk about it. Ray took comfort in Michael’s soothing touches as he rubbed his back, and the comforting feeling of his breath on Ray’s hair. They had been friends for so long that just his presence made Ray feel a bit better.

He didn’t know how long they were there before Michael nudged him up and told him to go take a bath. Everything seemed to be happening on autopilot as he undressed and filled the tub. He sat in the water until it faded from hot to warm, and then warm to cold. He tried not to think about the last time he’d taken a bath, and the feeling of Ray’s bare chest against his back.

He slipped into pajamas, and took a couple measly bites of the lunch Michael prepared before retreating to his room. Ray just wanted to sleep. He wanted to forget about everything that had happened. He wanted to forget about Ryan.

* * *

Ray didn’t expect to be woken by Michael the next morning. He figured that he would’ve just let him wallow for a couple days, as usual. Instead, he was blinking against the annoyingly bright light of his bedroom.

“Get up, I’m leaving for the rink in ten minutes.”

“I’m not going,” Ray mumbled into the pillow.

“You’re not going?” Michael asked. “So, what? You’re going to let that asshole take away your dreams, too? You’re just going to roll over and let everything you worked for slip away?”

“I can’t go back there, Michael,” Ray said quietly. “I can’t just go and pretend that nothing happened. I can’t smile and skate for him like he didn’t break my fucking heart.”

“Who said Ryan is going to be there?”

“What?”

“Do you really think I would let Ryan anywhere near you?” Michael growled. “That asshole isn’t going to be there. Geoff is coming back, and you’re going to train, and you’re going to get gold at World’s. Then you’re going to go to the Olympics and prove to Ryan that you didn’t need him.”

“Michael…”

“No; get up. I’m not letting you rot in this bed and throw away everything you’ve worked for.”

Ray sighed, but get up he did. Michael smiled and left the room to allow him to change. He really didn’t want to go. For the first time in a long time, he didn’t want to skate. The idea of skating the routines that he and Ryan had spent so much time working on wasn’t a pleasant one. His routines were so interlaced with their relationship. Every jump, and turn, and piece of choreography reminded him of Ryan. It reminded Ray of his hands on his skin, or his lips, or the feel of his breath against Ray’s ear.

He barely managed to stomach the food Michael made for breakfast. Each bite felt like a rock in his stomach, and each minute brought him closer to leaving the safety of their apartment. Ray tried to stop thinking about it as they drove to the rink. He tried to remind himself that Ryan wouldn’t be there, that Michael wouldn’t let him be there.

Still, when they finally got there, Ray had to force himself out of the car. He didn’t want to face Burnie, to see the mix of pity, anger, and disappointment that he knew he would. If it weren’t for Michael’s gentle nudging, he might’ve actually ran in the other direction. Instead, Ray adjusted the strap of his skate bag on his shoulder, and stormed forward towards the familiar doors.

Geoff and Burnie were both waiting inside. Geoff looked sympathetic, and… almost nervous, though Ray didn’t know why he would be nervous. Burnie looked almost as angry as Michael had the night prior. Almost immediately, he pulled Michael to the side while Geoff tried desperately to distract Ray and pull him away. Instead, Ray stepped closer.

“He’s coming to the rink. I told him I’d call the cops, and he told me I had no justifiable reason to,” Burnie said. “Which isn’t wrong, Michael. I have no real reason to keep him off the property.”

“Doesn’t matter, we’ll keep him out ourselves. Lock the back entrances. You, Jeremy and I will watch the other doors.”

“Michael…” Ray said quietly, stepping closer and ignoring Geoff’s pleading look.

“No. I told you I wasn’t going to let that asshole anywhere near you; I’m not going back on my word.”

Ray nodded, and allowed Geoff to pull him back towards the rink. He tried to focus on tying his skates, and not the measures they were going to in hopes of keeping Ryan out. Regardless, Ray was distracted. He continuously missed his queues in the choreography, and fell more than he had in a long time on his spins and jumps. Between under-rotating and over-rotating, Ray felt like he’d gone backwards in his career.

When lunch finally rolled around, he felt even worse than he had that morning. Shit really hit the fan when Jeremy burst through the doors and shouted, “He’s here! He’s in the parking lot… And he looks really pissed off.”

Ray barely had time to react before Michael was telling him to stay put and muttering darkly under his breath. He wouldn’t let Ryan in, Ray knew that, but his chest tightened nonetheless. He just wanted him to go away. He just wanted to forget about him, about what they had. He just wanted to fucking go home.

* * *

Burnie had to hold Michael back as he burst through the doors of the rink. He hadn’t ever seen the kid so pissed off; his face was beat red and every muscle in him seemed to tense at the sight of Ryan.

“Fucking let me go,” Michael growled. “Let me at him.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Jeremy said weakly from behind them.

“Why can’t I just punch him in the fucking dick: problem solved.”

“Because,” Burnie sighed, “We are adults, and we will handle this like adults.”

Admittedly, this wasn’t actually a very adult way of handling things, but the last thing he wanted to do was start a fist fight in his parking lot. He was pretty confident Michael and Ryan could actually do damage to each other, and he doubted Ray could deal with either of them ending up in the hospital, even if Ryan was a giant fucking asshole.

So they would guard the doors like children.

Jeremy had been right; Ryan looked fucking pissed. But Burnie knew him, and he knew that most of that anger was being directed back at himself. He knew he fucked up, he probably spent the entire night beating himself up for it. Hell, he probably _wanted_ Michael to punch him.

“I just want to explain,” He said as he approached the doors.

“He doesn’t want to hear it,” Michael shot back. “I fucking warned you not to hurt him, there’s no way I’m letting you anywhere near him again.”

“Michael, you don’t understand.”

“I don’t?” He scoffed. “You cheated on him, what more do I need to fucking understand? You fucking broke him again, _what more do I need to understand?_ ”

“I didn’t know what I was doing. I was drunk,” Ryan said. “I was jealous, and I was drunk, and I fucked up.”

“You were jealous, so you went and fucked someone else? And that’s supposed to help your case?”

“I never even fucked the guy.”

“Oh, that’s so much better,” Michael rolled his eyes. “You thought about it. From the looks of the fucking hickies on your neck you got pretty damn close to it.”

“Michael, please,” Ryan sighed, “I just want to make sure he’s okay.”

“He isn’t. Why the hell would you be okay, you broke his damn heart.”

“I made a mistake.”

“Yeah, you did.”

“I just want to fix things.”

“Too fucking bad.”

Ryan sighed, “Fine, you wanna be like that? I’ll sit out here all day; all _week_ if I fucking have to.”

“Ryan, that’s not a good idea,” Burnie sighed. “I don’t want to have you removed from the property.”

“Do it. I don’t fucking care; I need to see him.”

Michael lunged forward again, giving Burnie barely enough time to grab his arms and hold him back. Not that he didn’t think Ryan would do well with a decent punch to the gut. Burnie just really didn’t want it happening on his damn property.

“Fucking let me at him, Burns!”

“No, Michael. If you can’t control yourself, go inside,” He sighed, “Do your damn job, or something.”

“What—no!”

“Michael, I’m serious. Jeremy and I can handle this, go inside and calm the fuck down.”

He could tell that Michael wanted to argue, but by some miracle he sent one more nasty look Ryan’s way before retreating inside. Burnie took a deep breath when the door finally closed, and looked to Jeremy for the first time. He looked concerned and more than a little confused. Burnie hadn’t really had the chance to explain what was going on before shit hit the fan.

He looked back to Ryan, who was standing about a foot in front of them with his arms crossed and a determined frown. Burnie got the sinking feeling that he wasn’t kidding when he said he wouldn’t be leaving any time soon.

* * *

It took a lot more effort than Ray was expecting to get away from everyone. When he _finally_ managed to shake of Geoff, Michael appeared out of nowhere. He just wanted five fucking minutes to himself; he wasn’t as goddamn breakable as they all seemed to think he was. With the stress of everything that had happened, it didn’t take long before Ray snapped at Michael.

“Can I have five minutes to fucking piss, or are you going to accompany me there, too?” Ray shouted.

He hated the immediate shift in Michael—from protective and concerned to angry and annoyed (albeit still concerned). He hated snapping at people, especially his best friend, but having everyone hovering around him like he was a toddler learning to walk for the first time wasn’t helping his mood. If anything, it was just making the shitty feeling in the pit of his stomach worse.

He knew that they just wanted to make things better as quick as possible, and that they thought keeping Ryan as far away from him as they could would help, but it just wasn’t. He was glad he had such an amazing support system, honestly, but Ryan wasn’t going to just give up. He had to say whatever bullshit he needed to say first.

So, despite the sickening dread in his gut, Ray held his head high and made his way swiftly out the back door of the rink. He peered around the side of the building, finding Ryan and Jeremy staring each other down. If he knew Jeremy, and god did Ray hope he did, it wouldn’t be an issue to simply walk up to him and ask for five minutes. Sure enough, when he tried Jeremy gave him a concerned look, but nodded. “I’ll be right around the corner if you need me.”

“Thanks,” Ray said quietly, watching him walk away until he turned the corner. He took a deep breath, swallowed around the lump of nervousness in his throat, and pivoted to face Ryan. Almost immediately, he regretted the decision and focused his eyes on the ground. Ryan had no right to look that upset. _He_ was the one that fucked up, not Ray. _He_ was the one that had _slept with someone else_.

“Well?” Ray asked, thankful that his voice didn’t shake and give away the tears he could feel building. “Say what you want to say, and then leave.”

“Ray…” Ryan took a step closer, and Ray took a step back, pressing himself against the doors and shaking his head quickly.

“Come any closer and I swear to god I’ll scream.”

Ryan raised his hands, a quiet sorry tumbling from his lips. Ray tried not to watch as he ran his tongue along those lips. He tried not to think about where _else_ that tongue had been. “I’m sorry, Ray. It was a mistake.”

“No shit.”

“Please,” Ryan breathed, “Please let me finish. I… I got jealous. You were flirting with that skater and I let myself get jealous. And then I let myself get drunk, and I’ve _never_ made a good decision while drunk. I let this stupid kid talk me into it, I let him… I made a mistake, Ray. I didn’t want to hurt you. I’ve never wanted to hurt you.”

“Yeah, well, you did,” Ray responded, trying to fight back the tears with little success. “I trusted you. You knew what happened back in New York, and I _trusted you_.”

“I know—”

“You don’t!” Ray shouted. “You don’t, because you still did it! I told you I loved you, and you went and fucked someone else. I can’t…” He choked out a sob, “I can’t even _look_ at you without feeling sick. I never want to see you again.”

“Ray…” Ryan said quietly, crumpling to his knees. “Ray, please. I’m so sorry, I fucked up. I can’t… I can’t take that back, but I can’t lose you. You’re the most important person in my life.” He took a shaky breath. “I can’t lose you.”

Ray couldn’t do it. He couldn’t hold it together, but he couldn’t let himself go back to Ryan. So he shook his head and moved quickly back inside.  


End file.
